


[this could’ve been] a villain’s origin story

by petroltogo



Series: flip a coin [head for villain, tail for hero] [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, And I'm Not Just Talking About Tsuna But Also Villains To Villains, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, At Least Byakuran Is Reading Self-Help Guides On Friendships So Not All Is Lost, Author loves to chat in the Comments, Bullying, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Hyper Intuition (Katekyou Hitman Reborn!), Hyper Intuition Causes And Solves So Many Problems, I'm Looking At You Kokuyo Gang, In Their Defense: No One Taught The Lab Kids How To Properly Emote, It Could Have Happened To Anyone Really, Mental Health Issues, Not Canon Compliant, Not Iemitsu Friendly, Not Vongola Ninth Generation Friendly, Not beta-read, Oblivious Sawada Tsunayoshi, Protective Everyone, Protective Tsunayoshi, Read at Your Own Risk, Ridiculous Insanity Of The Superhero/Supervillain Variety, Sawada Iemitsu's A+ Parenting, Sawada Tsunayoshi Has Anxiety, Sawada Tsunayoshi Has So Many Issues, So Literally None, So More Hurt/Gruesome Retribution Really, Superhero!Tsuna, Superheroes and supervillains, Supervillain Style, Supervillain!Arcobaleno, Supervillain!Varia, Tsuna Has A Saving-Supervillains-Thing, Tsuna May Or May Not Get Himself Adopted By A Bunch Of Supervillains, Tsuna is a mess, Tsuna's Canon-Level Self-Esteem, Tsunayoshi Is A Cinnamon Roll, Unhealthy Relationships, Vongola Inc. Is A Superhero Organization, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petroltogo/pseuds/petroltogo
Summary: There is a moment, when Sawada Iemitsu looks down at his five year old son, his cute, shy, perfect little Tsuna, and the voice in his head — that irritating, always spot-on instinct his family is renown and feared for, the intuition that has never once led him wrong — tells himthis boy will burn everything you hold dear to the ground.In which Tsuna’s understanding of what it means to be a superhero differs from the norm, not that anyone cares. [They probably should have.]
Relationships: Arcobaleno & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Byakuran & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Joushima Ken & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Kakimoto Chikusa & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Rokudou Mukuro & Sawada Tsunayoshi, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Varia, Sawada Tsunayoshi & Xanxus
Series: flip a coin [head for villain, tail for hero] [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085798
Comments: 410
Kudos: 791
Collections: Reborn





	1. Introducing: Local Superhero In Denial About His Saving-Villains-Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [ _In one world, there will come a time when Tsuna stops wondering how he would have turned out had Reborn not arrived and turned Tsuna’s world on its head back when he’d been stupid and clumsy and useless and alone. He’ll never ask Byakuran how things would have gone — if maybe he would’ve been happier for it — and so Byakuran never tells. But for all that Vongola took Dame-Tsuna and pulled and used and tore and broke until he fit into what they needed him to be, for all that he won’t be able to imagine a life in which he doesn’t become Vongola Decimo, for all the blood and the lies and the broken promises, the underlying question never stops haunting him._  
>  ~~What am I worth?~~
> 
> This is not that world.]

1.

There is a moment, when Sawada Iemitsu looks down at his five year old son, his cute, shy, perfect little Tsuna, and the voice in his head — that irritating, always spot-on instinct his family is renown and feared for, the intuition that has never once led him wrong — tells him _this boy will burn everything you hold dear to the ground_.

He drops the child — his sweet, gentle Tuna fish, his _son_ — in shock. Tsuna screams in fear, but luckily doesn’t hurt himself from the fall. 

[The boy never lets Iemitsu throw him up into the air again.]

Later, Iemitsu will shake the eery feeling off. Will push it aside and convince himself of the folly of his five year old son posing a threat in any way, shape or form. It helps that his intuition never flares up again, not with that intensity. But an uneasy feeling remains, and though Nana is sad to see her husband leave so soon, eagerly waits for his return, it will be eight years before Iemitsu returns to visit his family for a meaningful length of time.

He’ll find Tsuna a downtrodden, cowardly boy, bullied and friendless and so very unsure of himself and the darkest part of Iemitsu — the part he will never admit to — breathes easier for it.

* * *

2.

When it happens, Tsuna doesn’t see it coming at all. It’s not the kind of thing one _sees coming_.

He’s following up on one of the many, many anonymous tips they receive daily about villain movements, suspicious sightings, potential collaborations, the works. Nowhere in the official Vongola Inc. recruitment speech do they tell you that working for the world’s largest superhero organization mostly means digging through trash and interviewing witnesses, rather than bashing a supervillain’s head in.

Granted, most teams go out and get at least _some_ action and technically Tsuna’s team is no exception. Tsuna is, though.

“You’re more likely to get one of us killed than be of any help!” Mochida had snapped when he’d seen Tsuna trot after the others on their way to the briefing room. “Make yourself useful for once and _stay out of the way_.”

[In all honesty, Tsuna can’t blame his squad leader. He never thought _he_ , Dame-Tsuna, always too slow, too clumsy, too useless, would get recruited by _Vongola Inc_. The best, most powerful, most feared superhero organization the world has to offer and they wanted _Tsuna_.

Of course that turned out to be bullshit. Tsuna should’ve expected nothing less. Should’ve seen it coming. ~~Why doesn’t he ever learn?~~ But he’d been so shocked, so _gratefulrelievedelated_ to know that someone saw something in him. That someone _wanted_ him.

If he’d known all Vongola wanted was Sawada Iemitsu’s son — his _bloodline_ — well. Tsuna knows himself well enough to realize that it probably wouldn’t have changed a thing. 

But that doesn’t stop him from _wishing_ it had.]

Mochida is cold and cutting and often cruel, but he’s not a terrible team leader. He takes his responsibilities seriously. And even though Tsuna _knows_ the man doesn’t like him, sees being saddled with Tsuna as a particularly creative punishment doled out by his superiors, Mochida doesn’t let Tsuna’s inability to walk a straight line without running into a door and his utter lack of super abilities get in the way of their job. It usually ends with Tsuna being sidelined and manning the coffee machine or the phone-lines — wherever he can cause the least damage — but Tsuna doesn’t mind much.

Sure, it’s not glamorous, but it’s still little things that need to get done and Tsuna is glad he can be of help, even if his co-workers rarely appreciate it. Mochida doesn’t expect much of anything from him and sometimes that hurts, but he never sets Tsuna up for failure just to have something to laugh at either — and that means more to Tsuna than it probably should.

Besides it’s not like spending yet another endless day at work, following up on various anonymous tips, 98 percent of which always turn out to be useless, is a bad price to pay for a steady job in a respected profession.

It’s only in retrospect that it occurs to Tsuna that what happens next is not at all surprising. That it is almost _inevitable_. Because no matter how many crazy, paranoid or joking people call the Vongola Inc. Emergency line, sooner or later Tsuna was bound to stumble over a nugget of valuable information. That this is the reason why they keep a tip line in the first place — because it occasionally proves _useful_.

In Tsuna’s defense, he’s pretty sure none of the others expected today’s calls to be real either. They sure wouldn’t have sent _him_ out otherwise.

But here he is. Searching — read: stumbling — through a long-abandoned warehouse that Tsuna just _knows_ would have Hana sniff in disgust at the utter cliché of it all. Without back-up or any weapon beyond his non-standard taser, courtesy of the genius that is Irie Shoichi.

[His team learned in their first month together not to arm Tsuna with anything he could use to hurt himself with. Or them.]

Staring in horror at the _wanted_ _supervillain_ who is staring back at Tsuna with equal surprise.

 _At least I’m not the only one caught off-guard_ , Tsuna thinks hysterically. And he’s allowed to be hysterical when he finds himself trapped alone and unarmed in an abandoned warehouse with _Skull De Mort_ of all people.

[Tsuna doesn’t have many hero-like qualities, but he’s got a lot of free time on his hands, what with manning the phone lines and pulling graveyard shifts on days where even villains prefer to catch a break and sleep in. Tsuna also, by virtue of his heritage, has access to the kind of high-level intel most field agents can only dream of.

As such, Tsuna has a better understanding of the playing field of the currently active and inactive supervillains than most.

Whereas the average news reporter likes to scoff and sniff derisively when Skull De Mort pulls one of his outrageous attacks that always mean _impressive amounts of property damage_ and _no civilian deaths_ because Skull is just an ambitious, loud-mouthed thug with ideas above his station as far as the general public is concerned, Tsuna knows better.

Skull De Mort is an Arcobaleno. As in _one of the seven most powerful villains in the entire world_. He might not drown the city in blood, but it’s sure as hell not because he _can’t_ do it. Sure, Skull baffles Vongola Inc. regularly with his antics, but his name is spoken in the same breath as _Reborn_ , _Fon_ or _Viper_ and the point is _oh god, Tsuna is gonna die here_.]

With perfectly reasonable, if unhealthy amounts of panic and horror fighting for dominance within him, it takes Tsuna several long seconds to realize that Skull isn’t launching into one of his infamous supervillain speeches. Isn’t even throwing glitter bombs at Tsuna — and those glitter bombs might not kill anyone, but walking into Vongola HQ and leaving a trail of glitter everywhere sure will.

Hibari-senpai — who isn’t even Vongola, is the definition of 'unaffiliated asset everyone is too afraid of to alienate so stay the fuck out of his way' — _hates_ glitter.

Tsuna is so dead.

Except he _still isn’t_. He’s been standing here, gaping and panicking for close to five minutes and Skull still hasn’t made his move. In fact, now that Tsuna pays attention, it’s not just his breathing that’s unnaturally loud and heavy in the empty hall. And— Tsuna squints. Skull doesn’t seem to be leaning against the wall so much as clinging to it and he’s watching Tsuna with a look that no one has ever directed at Tsuna in his entire life, something that almost looks like, like _wariness_ and— 

“Are you okay?” Tsuna blurts out before he can think of all the reasons why starting a conversation with an Arcobaleno is a terrible idea.

It’s just— this is a supervillain and that’s _terrifying_ and Tsuna should probably call someone more qualified to deal with this situation, but also this is starting to look like an _injured_ supervillain and somehow that makes a difference.

Skull scoffs, wich ironically puts Tsuna a little more at ease. People always scoff or scowl when he reminds them of his existence, this is no different. Besides it’s hard to take the villain’s derision personally when he promptly sways on his feet. He’s not wearing his helmet, either, and despite being dressed in the usual black motorcycle suit, Tsuna is pretty sure his violett hair is matted with blood.

“You’re hurt!” he exclaims, horrified. Promptly drops the taser he’s been trying to inconspicuously pull out of his overstuffed bag with shaking hands and rushes towards the villain’s side, who’s eyes widen in alarm as Tsuna approaches.

Skull’s apprehension makes it easier to breathe, but it’s not enough to distract Tsuna from the long cut along the man’s temple and the dark bruises on his jaw.

“The Great Skull-sama is fine!” Skull protests frantically.

He’s clearly not, considering he promptly loses his balance when he tries to take a step back. Instinctively, Tsuna reaches out to catch him, realizing a second too late that one, he doesn’t have the strength to keep the taller man upright and two, Tusna is a walking, talking disaster who inevitably trips and brings Skull down with him. They hit the ground hard enough to knock all the air out of his lungs and land in a graceless heap on the floor.

“Sorry!” Tsuna squeaks, breathless from where his face is smushed against Skull’s padded shoulder. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me, Skull-sama!”

Kami-sama, he’s knocked the poor, already injured man over! Trying to untangle them immediately, Tsuna accidentally rams his elbow into Skull’s side, which earns him a pained groan and Skull another flustered apology.

This is why his team doesn’t take Tsuna on missions. He’s a hazard not just to himself but everyone around him as well.

Scrambling away from Skull before he manages to kill the guy through sheer clumsiness, Tsuna forces himself to take one deep, steady breath — only one, though, else he’ll have time to think about how stupid what he’s gonna do in a moment really is — and starts to unpack his bag. Tsuna might not carry as many weapons as a Vongola Superhero on duty technically should, but his emergency kit would make any aspiring doctor proud. And Nana too, but that’s because Tsuna’s mom thinks he’s healing the innocent bystanders that get caught up in supe-fights — "My Tsu-kun has such a gentle heart!" — not _himself_. 

"What are you doing?!" Skull asks. Slowly pushes himself off the floor and into a sitting position.

"I’m just looking for the— there!" Tsuna _knew_ he still has one of Shoichi’s newest ice packs. He kneads the white package for a few moments to activate it, then holds it out to Skull. "Here. Hold this to your jaw for at least ten minutes, but no longer than thirty. Irie-kun is still working on some issues the long-term use has on human skin."

Tsuna babbles. He knows he’s babbling. He always does that when he’s scared. [It drives Mochida crazy sometimes because Tsuna is scared most of the time and Mochida _hates_ babbling.] It doesn’t stop him from noticing the odd look Skull shoots him, a bit like he’s measuring Tsuna’s worth. Except that’s a look he’s intimately familiar with and would recognize on anyone, so it’s something close, but not exactly that.

"Please take it, Skull-sama." Tsuna shakes the ice pack lightly, pretends like his hands aren’t trembling when those bright violett eyes fixate on him. "That looks like it really hurts." 

[He’s not sure why all Arcobaleno carry their superpowers on the outside. If it’s part of the costume, colored contacts and all, or if their bodies are brimming with power to the point where they’re overflowing, where it pours out of them in any shape it can.]

Slowly Skull takes the ice pack. Looks at it as though he doesn’t know what to do with it.

"H-Hold it against your chin, please, Skull-sama." Tsuna busies himself with sorting through his various bandages and tries very hard to pretend his voice isn’t shaking and squeakier than a frightened mouse. "It’ll help keep the swelling down."

"…the immortal Skull-sama heals fast." Skull says the words like a question. Tsuna doesn’t look up, but he can feel the weight of the man’s stare.

Hunching his shoulders, Tsuna pulls what little courage he has together, and stutters, "That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, Skull-sama. Please, can you just take it? I— I don’t like seeing people hurt."

Skull is still staring, Tsuna can tell, but it feels less like he wants to lean over and rip Tsuna open to figure out what’s going on inside and more like he’s just watching Tsuna drop the disinfect spray for the third time out of morbid curiosity. After a moment, he presses the ice pack to his face and even though Tsuna’s still trembling a bit, he smiles.

"Thank you, Skull-sama."

Skull doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t protest when Tsuna tells him to disinfect the gash above his eyebrow — not deep enough to need stitches, thankfully. He draws the line at more bandages, though, which is worrisome. Tsuna is pretty sure the man has at the very least bruised his ribs, but Skull is a supervillain not a runaway kitten. Maybe that means he knows what he’s doing.

That would at least make one of them.

Finally convinced that there’s no other injury Skull will let him help with, Tsuna carefully packs up his things up again and bids the villain a hesitant goodbye. Which brings up an awkward point.

"I have to go back to work now and someone might ask where I’ve been." _Eventually_. _Maybe._ Tsuna rocks back on his heels, not sure how to put this. "If they ask, they might come here. And you— might not want to be there when they come," is what he settles on.

Skull’s observing him with another strange expression, both eyebrows raised as he watches Tsuna make a fool of himself. "Why?"

Tsuna _eep_ s. [It’s not a full-on shriek, thankfully, but it’s far too close for his comfort.] There’s an intensity to Skull just now that has the hairs of the back of his neck stand up and reminds Tsuna rather violently that he’s talking to an _Arcobaleno_. That he’s been _treating an Arcobaleno’s wounds_. For a moment, Tsuna sways on his feet, as though his body wonders whether it should just give up on him completely.

"Ireallyneedtogonow!" Tsuna rushes the words out so fast, they trip over themselves, grabs his bag and high-tails it out of there. "Please take care of yourself, Skull-sama!" he calls out over his shoulder, almost walking into the door as he does so.

It’s not until Tsuna is sitting in his comfortingly safe work chair that it occurs to him that not once during the entire, surreal encounter [he still can’t believe he was in the same room as an Arcobaleno and _survived_ ] did it occur to him to call Vongola. Even _now_ Tsuna is hesitant to speak up, to tell one of his co-workers what happened. Because while his gut feeling tells him that Skull got out of that warehouse as soon as Tsuna turned his back on him, he isn’t _one hundred percent sure_ and ~~_what if they catch Skull because of him_?~~

Tsuna resolves to spill the whole story as soon as someone asks — he’s a terrible liar and he never promised Skull he wouldn’t tell, not that the man asked him to — and tries not to think too much about the many crimes he committed by letting the chance of catching a supervillain of Skull’s calibre go to waste. Not that anyone would expect _Tsuna_ to catch a supervillain, but still.

[His team returns two hours later, bright-eyed, bruised and breathless, the enthusiasm of a successful mission tangible in the air around them. Mochida even greets Tsuna with a smile and doesn’t scold him when Tsuna drops his tea cup in surprise and Haru tells him all about the exciting and ultimately successful arrest they’ve pulled off.

No one asks Tsuna where he’s been or if anything interesting happened while they were gone. 

Tsuna tells himself he’s relieved, for Skull’s sake if nothing else, because the pang he feels at the thought that _no one would miss me if I was gone_ has gone beyond pathetic a long time ago.]

* * *

3.

Following an anonymous tip into an abandoned warehouse without backup turns out to technically be against regulations. Because on-duty heroes are supposed to have backup when called out, no matter how minor the reported disturbance. Tsuna reads up on the rules because even days later he still feels a little guilty over not reporting the incident. Also because he’s bored. So he brushes up on Vongola’s rules, notes down all the ways in which his team breaks them on a regular basis, shrugs and moves on.

Not like any of it is new or surprising.

[Tsuna is a not-HR-approved-but-quietly-tolerated exception. As usual.

In Tsuna’s experience there are three types of rules: rules that apply to other superheroes, rules that apply to other people and rules that apply to Tsuna. It’s almost impressive how he manages to be an entire category all by himself, if it wasn’t his proven dangerous mixture of sheer ineptitude and unreasonable clumsiness that qualify him for it.

As it is, the majority of regulations don’t apply to Tsuna because Hana knows the rules better than most of their legal team put together and after that one incident where Tsuna managed to put her, Kyouko and Mochida himself into the hospital, let the supervillain in question escape and almost leveled the local Vongola Inc. bureau to the ground. Hana may tolerate Tsuna _now_ , but only because he’s never tried to get in her way or stop her from excluding him from any field activity in her general vicinity whatsoever.

All in all, Tsuna considers it a fair deal.]

Sure, Tsuna isn’t always on his own. Sometimes Haru acts as Tsuna’s backup because he doesn’t mind listening to her love life troubles or hear her wax poetry about her crush, though the fact that said crush is Hibari-senpai still makes Tsuna break out a cold sweat on occasion. It’s gotten rarer over the last few months though, as Haru’s gaining more and more field experience. Haru’s gift is to be overlooked — a subtle ability and all the more powerful for it. She takes the worlds 'hidden in plain sight' to a whole new level and it makes her far too valuable to waste her time running errands with Tsuna. Mochida’s words, not Haru’s.

That doesn’t make them any less true. [That doesn’t make them sting any less either.]

But with Haru’s frequent missions and no one else volunteering to take over her position, Tsuna has found himself alone more and more often. It’s alright though. The entire encounter with Skull De Mort would surely have gone so much worse if anyone else had been around to witness Tsuna’s flailing — or worse, try to _arrest_ an Arcobaleno.

[He’s not sure even Vongola Inc. would survive a war with the world’s strongest supervillains and whatever the outcome of that disaster would be, Tsuna sure doesn’t want to see it first-hand.]

Not that it matters. The entire thing is over and done with now and Tsuna is determined never to think about the most terrifying moment of his life ever again.

He is in fact so determined to _not_ think about it-which-never-was that he walks smack into another person in the middle of the sidewalk with enough force to almost bowl his poor victim over.

"I-I’m so sorry!" Tsuna exclaims in shrill horror as the young man catches himself with admirable reflexes.

Tsuna only catches a glimpse of the scowl on the man’s face, mostly hidden by the blond hair that covers his eyes, but it’s ferocious enough to make him back up several steps, trip over his own feet and fall on his butt with a squeak. He can feel the intensity of the man’s judgement from where he’s sitting and winces in preemptive reaction to the shouting that’s sure to come. But then he just makes a derisive sound and walks away, making it more than clear that Tsuna isn’t even worth that much.

The disregard would hurt more if Tsuna wasn’t distracted by the prodding suspicion that he recognizes the man from somewhere.

Not that Tsuna knows all that many people. Most of them from wanted posters, actually, since there aren’t that many things you can look up to keep yourself awake during the graveyard shift. And that’s. That’s concerning on a number of levels, now that he thinks about it.

It’s as he scrambles back onto his feet, brushing the dirt off his pants and trying to ignore the ache from the fall, that Tsuna notices the knife. At first glance, there’s nothing special about it. It’s small, the blade no longer than Tsuna’s palm and only about as wide as his thumb. The grip is decorated with intricate carvings that speak of something more meaningful and personal than a kitchen knife, true, but there’s no insignia or signature mark on it that Tsuna can see.

Of course it doesn’t need one. Knives are a signature all on their own and the mere sight of it coupled with the covered eyes and blonde hair makes Tsuna’s eyes widen in realization. Despite the mockery his insisted upon title often earns him, Prince Belphegor is no small-time villain. Although he’s technically not that much older than Tsuna himself, the bloodbaths he’s taken credit for have certainly left an impression — and earned him a reputation for being one of the least reasonable _Varia_ members.

[A terrifying thing to consider, since the Varia is accused of many things, being reasonable never among them. Power-wise they’re not on the same level as the Arcobaleno, but unlike the Arcobaleno the Varia have somewhat of a concept of teamwork. That makes them a different sort of threat.

That Vongola has a working understanding with them is a point of pride for the organization — though that hasn’t kept them from briefing all members extensively on the threat the Varia as a whole represents. Tsuna still has nightmares about those training sessions. There were a lot of pictures involved.]

Tsuna is good at remembering supervillains — at recognizing them — but he’s not a genius like Inoichi, nor does he retain information with the enviable ease Hana does. The only two things that really stuck in his mind regarding Prince Belphegor is that warning note on how drawing blood in a fight with him is a bad idea and that he’s very particular about his knives.

Which Tsuna has no trouble believing. The knife isn’t decorated with rubies or similar extravagance, but the blade itself is engraved with the words _ignis sum_. Maybe if Tsuna had done more than passed Latin by the skin of his teeth that would mean something to him. As it is, it just gives him the impression that the blade means something to Belphegor.

With a healthy sense trepidation, he picks up the knife — half expecting Belphegor to descend upon him in mad fury the moment he touches it — only to release a shaky breath when nothing happens.

For a moment, Tsuna hesitates. Unsure if he should just leave the knife here, pretend he hasn’t seen anything like he’s done so often. [Nobody ever pays Dame-Tsuna any mind, nobody ever expects anything useful from him ~~and maybe Tsuna grew tired of proving them wrong years ago because nothing he tried ever worked~~.]

The blade glints in the weak sunlight. Tsuna makes up his mind.

He trips over his own feet several times in his haste to catch up with Belphegor. Luckily, the man hasn’t made it that far and there are no inconvenient obstacles on the sidewalk. Those always increase the chance of Tsuna colliding with something and knocking himself unconscious. He really doesn’t need another concussion either, those are really uncomfortable.

["I’ll be honest with you, Mrs Sawada," one of the ER doctors had told Tsuna’s mother bluntly, "if your son wasn’t a super, he’d likely be suffering permanent from permanent damage due to all the head traumas he’s received. I strongly recommend to withdraw him from whatever training he’s receiving."

Tsuna got excused from P.E. after that, much to the relief of his class.]

"Excuse me," Tsuna gasps out when he finally catches up with Belphegor — and promptly gasps again when the man grabs him by the throat and forces him back against a wall.

"Peasants should not make grabs above their stations." Belphegor sneers.

Tsuna opens his mouth. Doesn’t make a sound. Tries again.

"Y-You lost this."

He holds out the knife with a shaking, claws weakly at Belphegor’s grip with the other. How he gets the words out at all remains a miracle.

Even covered by blond hair, he can feel the intensity of the prince’s stare. The power thrumming underneath his skin. There’s warning sirens blaring in the back of Tsuna’s mind and he doesn’t even know if he can’t breathe through panic or because Belphegor is choking him. He shrinks back further against the wall as though trying to melt into it, but the bricks doesn’t give.

_I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna—_

It takes Tsuna several moments to realize he’s squeezing his eyes shut in a panic. When he opens them, Prince Belphegor is gone and so is the knife.

[It takes Tsuna far longer to get his poor heart back under control and feel like his nervous system won’t violently shake out of his skin. His hands still tremble faintly by the time he finally makes it home.]

* * *

4.

Tsuna isn’t usually the type to hang out at bars. But sometimes. Sometimes Tsuna is convinced the only way to survive the antics of his fellow co-workers and their world’s supervillains with whatever meager amount of sanity he has left intact is through copious amounts of alcohol.

Most days, he’s unfortunately well aware that liquor can’t fix the kind of surreal madness that haunts him. Today is not such a day.

[There was a lab accident in some supervillain’s hide-out that led to a swarm of feral, neon-green ducks the size of small wolves attempting and succeeding in taking over the local university. An unholy alliance between the cafeteria staff, the student council and a bunch of psychology majors had fought back, which in turn had prompted an IT student to reveal his own secret supervillain nature [what?], successfully declare his fellow students his most devoted minions [what?!] and ally with the crazy ducks in order to subjugate mankind and end the reign of evil midterms forever [ _what_ ]. By the time Tsuna’s team had been briefed the situation had escalated to the point where even Tsuna had been called in.

He’d taken two steps onto the campus, gotten bashed in the head by an over-eager student yelling "EVERY MAN, WOMAN AND NON-BINARY FOLK FOR THEMSELVES BITCHES!" and watched the rest of the fight with numb horror on YouTube from the relative safety of an ambulance.

In retrospect, Tsuna thanks every teacher who didn’t believe in him that he never even got to apply to university. He never would have survived such a madhouse — and he once broke the coffee maker and had to deal with _Hana on caffeine withdrawal_.]

Which is how Tsuna has ended up in a bar. After getting saddled with his entire team’s paperwork for being useless in today’s fight, that is.

Tsuna takes a gulp of his beer in an effort to forget the mountain of paperwork waiting for him in the morning. It’s not as effective as popular media makes it out to be. Although part of that may be the supervillain who sits two chairs to his left. Tsuna is doing an admirable job of convincing himself that, really, anyone could wear a black leather jacket with the Varia’s insignia on its back — anyone could, really, just not for long — and that those budges do not _have_ to be weapons. First because Tetsu-san does not tolerate fights inside his bar and anyone who breaks that rule is banned for life, no exceptions, no matter what side of the law you stand on. And, well. Tsuna likes Tetsu-san. The man is kind and never scoffs when Tsuna fumbles, falls over and accidentally breaks a glass. Or his own face. And second, we-ell. It’s not like the supervillain seems to be up to anything ominous. Right the opposite, in fact. He’s so busy sobbing into his whiskey that Tsuna feels uncomfortable just watching him, never mind be heartless enough to arrest him.

There’s just some things you don’t disturb, supervillain or not, and the stark grief and silent tears rolling down Leviathan’s gruff face definitely belong into that category. Tsuna swallows down the last of his beer and quietly asks Tetsu-san to please bring the poor, still crying man — who’s name Tsuna carefully doesn’t mention — another whiskey and put it on Tsuna’s bill.

It’s what anyone would do.

* * *

5.

Tsuna is on his way home — Mochida, in a rare show of compassion, let him go early after Hana reminded everyone that Tsuna had pulled another all-nighter to complete everyone’s paperwork for their last clean-up mission in that sarcastic drawl of hers that says 'you may be team leader but you’re gonna sit up and listen now _or_ _else_ '. It’s one of the reasons Hana is his favorite team member, right along with the way she treats every male like an idiot, not just Tsuna. Because Tsuna doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it or anything, but he’s tired, started to see double about three hours ago and all he really wants to do now is to shower, eat and sleep. Not necessarily in that order.

Tsuna turns the corner of his usual short-cut and stumbles over a body.

As in _literally_ stumbles. Tsuna almost falls face first onto the person, who curls into themselves as though slinking in between the garbage can is going to turn them invisible and lets out a snarl that _does not_ sound human.

Tsuna stifles his reflexive, startled cry. Barely. His balance is a lost cause though, and he only just manages to throw himself sideways past the legs of whoever this person is onto the asphalt. Which does little to soften his landing, for all that Tsuna miraculously manages to catch himself on his hands. Not that his palms will thank him for it.

It takes Tsuna a moment to reorient himself, but then he scrambles onto his knees, twists to take a look at the blood-covered — _pleasedon’tbedead_ — body he literally stepped on. It’s a young man with a terribly scratched up face and eyes that glint yellow in broad daylight.

When their gazes interlock, the male snarls. Again. _Definitely not dead_ , Tsuna thinks with no little amount of relief.

[It’s not that Tsuna is a stranger to dead bodies. There’s a reason normal organized criminal activities are lower than they’ve ever been and it’s not because humanity as a whole has become less prone to murder. It’s because supes don’t leave room for anyone else — because what enhancement really means is more damage and less survivors, no matter on what side of the law any supe in question works.

With the natural exception of Tsuna who fails all supe-related expectations equally.

That doesn’t mean Tsuna likes it. And it definitely doesn’t mean he doesn’t breathe easier every time his team returns from a mission alive and mostly unhurt — every time they arrest a supervillain instead of sending another body to the morgue.]

"Fuck off!" the male growls. As in actually growls. Despite looking dead on his feet — literally — and with one of those unnervingly yellow eyes swollen shut by a bruise so dark it’s almost black and apparently incapable of sitting up, the guy doesn’t do a bad job of appearing threatening.

The bad feeling of _I-know-who-you-are_ that’s itching in the back of Tsuna’s brain intensifies.

"I-Is there anyone I can call to come get you?" Tsuna manages with barely any stutter.

It’s the wrong thing to day. One yellow eye narrows, suddenly fixated unerringly on Tsuna, no sign of disorientation or dizziness from the blood loss. And there should be signs of those, going by the state of the guy’s torn clothes and the hand he keeps pressed down against his left side, where his shirt is soaked with blood.

"Yeah, you’d like that wouldn’t you." The guy bares his teeth and. They’re razor-sharp. And don’t look at all like what teeth are supposed to look like. "I said FUCK OFF!"

Tsuna feels dizzy just at the sight of it because. Because. There’s only one supe he’s aware of with the ability to modify his body like this and while there are worse villains to run into, there’s also plenty of more dangerous, more _sane_ ones he could’ve stumbled over.

[Dangerous is bad, but _insane_ gets its own kind of respect. You can’t reason with insanity, can’t trust that they’ll know or care that randomly killing Vongola employees unprovoked will cause more trouble for them in the long run than any one hero’s death is worth. Never mind Tsuna's.]

Tsuna grits his teeth and carefully doesn’t move closer to the unnamed guy — whose name Tsuna refuses to think because acknowledging who’s in front of him means he’ll have to call Hana and get this possibly-but-not-confirmed villain arrested.

And don’t get him wrong, Tsuna’s stupid, but he’s not an idiot. He knows that if the guy wasn’t beaten to hell and back, he’d have attacked Tsuna in a heartbeat, might have even killed him. And it’s not that Tsuna doesn’t understand damn well how dangerous supervillains are, how much damage they cause, how many people they kill. It’s just—

[He looks scared and pissed off and resigned all at once and Tsuna knows that look, has seen it before, every day for five years and it’s not a choice really. Not like this.]

Tsuna very, very slowly pulls his phone out of his back-pocket. He determinedly ignores the way his hands shake. [The way the injured _completely unidentified_ person tenses at the sight of it, watches him warily, hand creeping towards the broken glass shards behind him.]

Presses number four on his speed dial.

"Sorry, I— No, I’m fine. I just. I found your friend. He’s- hurt. Badly. And he won’t let me help. Can you just- get here please?"

[It’s not _a thing_. Tsuna doesn’t have a thing, no matter what the nagging voice in the back of his head says. In the grand scheme of things, it’s not even all that important. But. Tsuna makes an exception.

 _Just this once_.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time in this fandom and I'm really, really curious to hear what you think. If you have the time, please let me kow in a comment!


	2. One Does Not Simply Meet An Arcobaleno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which no good deed goes unpunished. ~~Because trusting in a superhero’s kindness gets supervillains dead.~~
> 
> Warning for good intentions, bad people, ambiguous morals and the non-consensual mindfuckery that is Mukuro. Also featuring the differences between superheroes and supervillains as told by Sawada Tsunayoshi, age 5, because reasons.

6.

Some people say that in a battle of life and death, there’s no time to panic. There’s no time for rational thought, for arguments, for whining because if you don’t stop thinking and start doing, if you don’t move _right this fucking second_ , you’re already dead.

This, as Tsuna has had ample time to discover over the course of his ill-fated career at Vongola Inc., is bullshit. There is _always_ time to panic.

One might go so far as to say it’s Tsuna’s superpower to panic in any given situation except one doesn’t because everyone knows Tsuna doesn’t have a gift and that’s one thing you don’t joke about.

[It’s something tragic, something to be pitied and whispered about in soft voices, quietly mourning for the son Sawada Iemitsu could’ve had, should’ve had. _Maybe he’s a late bloomer_ , they’ll murmur, like an apology, a prayer, and never notice the way Tsuna cringes away from their words, the shallow comfort, in ways he doesn’t from Mochida’s scathing words or Hibari on a warpath.]

When a mission inevitably takes a turn for the worse — because a self-respecting supervillain always has a back-up plan and Tsuna should be used to the kind of moves a cornered super pulls, he should, but there’s just no accounting for a swarm of _flying_ flesh-eating piranhas — and Tsuna finds himself cornered in a shot-out between his team, the low-level supervillain of the week and a swarm of fishes that apparently no longer need water and attack everything in sight, he does the reasonable thing and panics.

In between reloading, Hana finds the time to roll her eyes at his antics and jerk her head in a wordless command to hide in the surprisingly still standing backroom of the coffee shop they’ve crash-landed in. Tsuna gratefully scampers off. He’s clutching his useless taser so hard between his fingers, his hand is aching, and breathing is kind of a struggle, but he makes it past the employees only sign without any animal gnawing on him, so Tsuna takes it as a win.

His trembling knees do not agree.

[Flying piranhas that attack on command and don’t differentiate between friend and foe — hence why Hana’d been trying to shoot the mastermind of this mess free so they’d still have someone left to interrogate — what is _wrong_ with the world?]

Tsuna slams the door shut behind him — mentally apologizing to the unfortunate owner as he does so — and trips over boxes, a computer mouse and the overturned chairs of the tiny break area that the employees not caught up in the mess outside must have hastily vacated. He accidentally slams his shoulder into the door frame of the emergency exit — which hurts — and fumbles with lock for a moment, before it thankfully takes mercy on him and opens.

Out in the back there’s more mess, probably caused by the fleeing civilians. Overturned trash cans, a dropped handbag that almost causes Tsuna to faceplant on the dirty floor, a car that looks like it was abandoned thirty years ago and has had its fair share of super-caused incidents since. The backstreet is a narrow dead-end. The only way out leads around the corner straight to the main street — not an option, as far as Tsuna is concerned, because that will bring him to the storefront and it’s a matter of moments before the escalating fight will spill out into the street.

There’s the noise of what feels like a hundred windows not just shattering but imploding inwards and Tsuna isn’t just unsteady on his feet, he can literally feel the ground tremble beneath him from the force of Hana’s special talent for _I will find a way or I will_ ** _make one_**.

[Tsuna’s team is filled with young trainees with more talent than experience — and him — but there’s a reason they rank among the heavy-hitter squads. Not high-level supervillains. Not yet. But the potential…

 _The sky’s the limit_ , Tsuna knows and doesn’t understand why the thought sends a pang through his heart.]

 _There goes the store front_. _And possibly the entire street_. On that encouraging note, Tsuna turns his back on his only legitimate escape route and considers the less legitimate ones.

[Tsuna rarely shows it, but he _is_ a super. True, his test scores on enhanced speed, senses, strength, regeneration and processing of information are all average or lower — but they are average or lower scores on the _super_ scale. So while Tsuna tends to be useless in a fight against people exceeding his fairly unimpressive abilities, it does give him a certain edge in everyday life.

Supers aren’t a recent phenomenon as such, have been around since the WWII at least, but for all that they’re present in most societies _now_ , they only make up around 8% of the global population. Which is a lot in numbers, but not a lot in relation to humanity as a whole. And sure, supers have a tendency to go crazy and or murderous, but the amount of collateral damage they cause isn’t _just_ because like everything else a super’s mental disorders are _also_ enhanced — and really, how many perfectly normal people are there? how many of those perfectly normal people would’ve gone batshit crazy when all their occasional moodiness, bout of depression or interest in conspiracy theories needs is that little edge every super comes by naturally that turns _fear_ into _terror_ , turns _anger_ into _rage_ , turns _dislike_ into _hatred_?

Supers, no matter their alignment, don’t do moderation.

And the world they live in is ~~breakable, vulnerable, so easily set aflame~~ because it’s built for civilians.]

Even trembling and flinching at every ominous gunshot, groan and scream that carries over from the far too close battlefield to him, it’s a work of moments for Tsuna to bend the barbed wireblocking his wayfar enough apart to squeeze himself through the crack. Being slight has its advantages, for all that Tsuna wishes he were broader.

Three broken fences, two trash cans he has to vault over in a move everyone makes look easy that doesn’t come natural to Tsuna at all and an untold number of scratches and bruises — most accidentally self-inflicted — later, Tsuna finds himself several streets away from the ongoing battle. There’s no sign of any clean-up crew either though, which means that either Vongola Inc.’s average response time as fallen to an all-time zero — unlikely considering Hibari-senpai rules that department with an iron hand — or Tsuna’s run into the wrong direction.

Wonderful.

Tsuna doesn’t get around to bemoan his fate nor his legendary terrible sense of directions though because in that moment he tries to freeze only to stumble instead because his momentum drives him forward anyway, only just missing the bullet aimed for his head.

At this rate, his palms are going to be permanently sore, Tsuna thinks in resignation and scrambles to get back on his feet. He kind of wishes he hadn’t when he does though because it means he now has a clear view on what he’s stumbled into.

Really, what supervillain is stupid enough to get into a shoot-out within a mile of an ongoing supervillain attack that’s warranted a response from Vongola Inc.? And why is it always Tsuna who ends up in these situations?

The crack of a gunshot rings through the air and three of the men hidden in an alleyway right in Tsuna’s line of sight drop like their strings have been cut. Except that strings don’t leave that much brain mass behind. The man fighting seven- make that _six_ — and oh, Tsuna’s gonna throw up as soon as he gathers enough wits to remember how — others in the middle of the street doesn’t flinch. Not even when another gun shot sounds and Tsuna would swear on his life that the bullet _zigzags_ around the man to kill three more of the ones that have him surrounded instead.

Supers or not, that’s not physically possible. That’s the stuff of—

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A dark voice purrs _right into Tsuna’s ear_.

Tsuna does the only reasonable thing that comes to mind: he screams like he hasn’t since he graduated middle school and whirls around.

"HIEEEEE!"

In that moment, Tsuna _wishes_ he’d faint. All he manages though, is a second fainter squeak not unlike a startled mouse as Tsuna looses all feeling in his legs and wobbles dangerously, one wrong move away from crumbling to the ground. It’s a perfectly adequate reaction when coming face to face with the world’s Greatest Hitman, the infamous — even among Arcobaleno standards — Reborn. Who is eying him with vaguely amused disgust, the kind that says _the sight of your sheer ineptitude amuses me, but I will kill you rather than risk it spreads_.

And there’s the equally infamous, lime green gun Reborn is known to favor. Aimed straight at Tsuna’s head.

 _I should’ve passed out when I had the chance_.

"Senpai? What are you—"

With a determination Tsuna didn’t know he possesses, he manages to avert his eyes from the very loaded gun that never misses aimed straight at him and turn to face the second man who’s approaching slowly, a questioning tilt in his voice. Definitely the one Tsuna had seen fight and who, going by the blood covering his arms — ~~not his own~~ —, has succeeded in putting down the men that had surrounded him.

It takes Tsuna an additional four blinks to recognize the man and it’s only partly because of the terror that keeps his thoughts stuck in an unhelpful circle of _ohmygodthisishowIdie_. Mostly it’s the lacking make-up that throws Tsuna off at first.

"Skull-sama?" Tsuna would blush at the high note his voice achieves, but to be honest, he’s impressed with himself for managing to make a sound at all. It’s not even a scream. Maybe all those stay calm in a crisis seminars Mochida keeps volunteering him for have been good for something after all?

"Oh, it’s you!" Skull, who is not wearing his typical bodysuit in an eye-watering shade of purple could pass for any other male walking down a busy street if it wasn’t for the glowing purple eyes and hair that’s spilling out from underneath his black beanie like it dislikes being confined, beams. "Do you have any more of those ice packs? They’re really great, way better than what I can talk Verde into selling me— but don’t tell him I said so!" The last part is hurriedly tackled on with an unhealthy amount of panic.

Tsuna, who had no intention of ever running into another Arcobaleno, feels a foreboding shudder of dread running down his spine. He promptly resolves never to leave the office again — should he live that long. Still, Skull has asked an important question and he’s covered in blood, even if most likely isn’t his so—

"Are you hurt again, Skull-sama?" Even as Tsuna asks, he’s already tucking out his emergency supply bag. "I’ve restocked the ice packs but Irie-kun has hit a snag in the skin tissue issue so we might have to switch back to the regular ones."

Tsuna carefully hands the man two ice packs. "Please be careful with their use."

"You know this boy, lackey?" Reborn speaks up out of nowhere — and how did Tsuna forget the very deadly, very unamused supervillain right in front of him?

"HIE!"

Turns out, the gun is still aimed at Tsuna’s head. Close enough now, that Tsuna feels the cool metal pressed deceptively light against his forehead.

"Knock it off, Senpai!" Skull scowls. "He helped me out once. It’s not a big deal."

It’s a marvelous scowl. Tsuna absently notes that Hibari could take lessons from Skull’s scowl. Clearly he has lost what little mind he had left.

Reborn sneers. "Needing the help of Vongola rats now, Lackey? It appears I’ve been too lax on you."

He doesn’t lower his gun.

Tsuna inwardly apologizes to Hana for accidentally telling Ryohei about her crush — Tsuna just isn’t meant to keep secrets — and now that his brutal death is imminent, Tsuna feels he can finally admit to it. In the privacy of his own mind because despite all evidence to the contrary he’s not suicidal and Hana would _know_.

Skull laughs. The sound is so obnoxious it pulls even Tsuna out of his own head — something that the ever-unpleasant Professor Netsu hadn’t managed in all the super lessons Tsuna had attended. "You’re just sore because he distracted you, Senpai. Which means—", here Skull’s eyes start to sparkle with unholy delight, "that our score is 12 to 9 and you _lose_!"

The look Skull shoots Tsuna approaches a level of worship Tsuna hasn’t even seen in _Hibari-senpai’s underlings_. That mocking smirk on Skull’s lips though — Tsuna can understand why it provokes Reborn-sama into shooting at the man twice, forcing Skull to twist his body in shapes that are not even remotely close to human.

"Come on, Senpai." Skull jeers. "Are you really gonna kill the little hero because you’re a sore loser?"

"Do you want me to kill you, Lackey?" Reborn asks with such a perfect aura of _calm_ that Tsuna wants to curl into himself and die quickly.

Skull snorts. "As if you could."

With a wink in Tsuna’s direction he shoots off, a dozen bullets — that shouldn’t have fit into the gun’s magazine — following in his wake. Reborn gives Tsuna one long, measured— utterly _deaddead_ ** _dead_** — look before he scoffs not unlike Mochida does when someone reminds him of Tsuna’s existence and stalks off.

Tsuna watches him go with unseeing eyes until long after the instinctual awareness of both Arcobaleno has faded completely from his senses. Then Tsuna does the only reasonable thing he can do, the only thing left to do: He turns around, bracing both hands against the nearest wall to keep himself upright and throws up.

* * *

7.

Tsuna thought that unfortunate second run-in with Skull would be the end of it. Correction: Tsuna was determined to consider the subject of the Arcobaleno closed and done with and he had the Nana-inherited power of denial to back him up. Therefore, reasonable or not, the matter _should have been_ closed.

And it would have. It absolutely would have. After his team had tracked a hyperventilating Tsuna down to the middle of a shoot-out-turned-crime-scene they had unanimously demoted Tsuna to desk duty. For the next four months.

Which, while excessive, should put a healthy distance between Tsuna and any nearby-lurking Arcobaleno, so he had accepted the verdict without protest and no small amount of relief. The chance of accidentally running into the best of today’s supervillains is much smaller when Tsuna isn’t out in the field after all.

Of course that only goes for the _accidental_ meetings.

All the power of his mother’s denial — of which there is a lot — cannot stop an Arcobaleno from seeking Tsuna out. And don’t get him wrong, Tsuna probably wouldn’t mind so much if it was Skull coming to brag about his victory over Reborn and thanking Tsuna for his timely intervention — which Skull _had in fact done_ , almost giving Tsuna a heart-attack when he snuck through his bedroom window in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, Skull is not Tsuna’s greatest problem. Neither is Hibari-senpai, who was less than pleased when he found out two of the Arcobaleno had left a living witness behind, only for said witness to be of no help in tracking them down.

No. The problem is most definitely the Arcobaleno Reborn. Who appears to be — Tsuna shudders just thinking about it — _stalking_ him.

That’s. That’s so much more than a problem.

[The first time Reborn popped out thin air right in front of him, Tsuna screamed so loud his mother — who has been known to ignore anything up to and including literal explosions going off inside their living room — had come running in concern. And all the Arcobaleno had done was tilt his head to shadow his eyes and smirk before he’d disappeared.]

A _problem_ implies there’s a way to resolve this mess Tsuna has somehow gotten himself into. But there isn’t. He’s still not clear on why someone like Reborn has taken the time to track him down, follow him to and from work and occasionally just pop up, scare Tsuna half to death — he’d thought he’d left his stupid shrieks behind in school, damn it — and disappear again without a trace. All Tsuna really knows is that there’s no such thing as a place safe from Reborn — Kami-sama, he’s shown up in the middle of the break room at Vongola Inc.’s headquarter! — and that there’s no stopping the man until he decides he’s damn well ready to stop.

It’s. 'Unsettling’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Even _Mochida_ has asked Tsuna if he’s alright the other day. For the record, Tsuna _isn’t_ alright. He’s being stalked by an Arcobaleno. There’s no place for 'alright' in such a situation. But it’s not like he can come out and say it. His team already knows he’s useless, he doesn’t need to add in 'insane' to that.

[If Tsuna had friends, maybe… But Tsuna can’t recall a single person he’s ever been able to call his friend, so it’s a moot point.]

So far Reborn hasn’t done anything. There’s been no threats, no attempts to harm the few people in Tsuna’s life, nothing. In a way that’s worse because it keeps Tsuna in a constant state of guessing-slash-fearing when the shoe will finally drop.

Reborn’s mere presence, after all, is a more efficient threat than most grown supervillain include in their world domination speech. Not that Tsuna thinks a supervillain of Reborn’s calibre would ever aim for something so quaint as total world _domination_. Total world _annihilation_ on the other hand, well, that’s a different matter entirely, isn’t it?

["Why are you stalking me? What do you want?!" Tsuna had shouted — read: sobbed — once, after a long, nerve-wrecking day spent looking over his shoulder and twitching at every hint of lime green he could see, utterly done with the world in general and his life as an Arcobaleno’s personal study object in particular.

Reborn-sama had stared at him with those unnerving yellow eyes, like a wolf on a hunt, and so very _dead_. "Impressive," he’d murmured with a quirk of lips that couldn’t hope to pass for a smile and disappeared without an explanation.]

"Sawada? Are you alright?"

Tsuna blinks, surprised not just by the question but the comparatively soft voice, considering it’s Hana who’s asking. He tries for a smile that must fall terribly flat and fails not to flinch at the hint of green he catches in the corner of his eyes. They’re in the middle of a briefing and Tsuna doesn’t know how Reborn does it, how none of the others seem to notice, but Tsuna _knows_ he’s there.

"I’m fine, Kurokawa-san," Tsuna stutters, somehow managing not to cry. "Thank you for asking."

[ ~~Why me?~~ ]

* * *

8.

When Tsuna stumbles into Tetsu-san’s bar — named 'Neutral Ground' because one can never be too on the nose when supers are involved — only two weeks after his last visit, the man raises his eyebrows at him in surprise. Tsuna doesn’t react to it. It’s true, usually he only stops by every few months after a particularly insane mission. When he needs to ground himself in reality, needs the reminder that the whole world hasn’t gone mad.

But Tsuna’s been stalked by an Arcobaleno for going on eleven days now and he’s fast running out of fucks to give. Or sanity, for that matter.

Tsuna orders a whiskey instead of his usual beer and spends the evening nursing his drink and observing the comings and goings of the bar with blank eyes from his spot at the bar. The supervillain sitting to his left looks vaguely familiar, but Tsuna can’t be bothered to take a closer look. He hasn’t felt the weight of Reborn-sama’s gaze on him in seven hours, and though it’s very possible that the Arcobaleno is simply hiding himself better that won’t stop Tsuna from returning to the tried and true method of denial. He can’t feel Reborn, he can’t see Reborn, therefore Reborn isn’t there and won’t be Tsuna’s problem anymore.

[This fact is not to be questioned. Tsuna _refuses_. He clings to it with stubborn determination — of which he has a lot more than his high school diploma would suggest.]

That’s why it takes Tsuna almost the entire evening to recognize Leviathan of the Varia as his unacknowledged drinking partner.

At least this time the man isn’t crying. Tsuna is bad with crying people — he’s usually the one crying, after all. He still looks sad though, in a way that has nothing to do with evil plans foiled by the forces of good. Tsuna’s heart clenches in sympathy at the heartbreak the other man wears so openly on his face for all to see. It takes an incredible amount of courage to wear your emotions for all to see like that and courage has never been Tsuna’s strong point. He can empathize though.

When Tetsu-san stops by, Tsuna pays for another of Leviathan’s drinks. And when the man gets up from his barstool and leaves the bar without paying the bill, Tsuna covers that as well. Tetsu-san shouldn’t lose out on business after all, and there’s just something in the dejected slump of Leviathan’s shoulders that makes Tsuna feel better about being able to solve at least one of the guy’s problems.

Now if only could manage to solve some of his own as well.

* * *

9.

Sawada Iemitsu laughs loud and booming ~~and false~~. "Of course my little tuna fishie has a gift!" His whole body shakes with the force of his amusement. "He’s a Sawada! He’ll grow up to be one of the most powerful superheroes of his generation, I’ve got no doubt about that. There’s greatness in his blood, you see. He’ll make his old man look like a civilian before long as any good son should!"

Nana giggles.

Tsuna smiles. Tentatively.

 ~~Liar~~.

[Children pick up so much more from their parents than even they themselves realize.]

* * *

10.

Like an uncanny premonition of bad things to come, an uneasy feeling settles into Tsuna’s stomach the moment his phone rings. For once it’s not even his newly developed paranoia at fault either. Tsuna can count the number of calls he’s received on that phone since he bought it four years ago on one hand. Excluding his mother, but they have a scheduled call every Saturday evening — Nana wouldn’t call him unless there was an emergency outside that time, determined not to distract him from his _many duties as a superhero_.

[Tsuna doesn’t know what she means by that and he hasn’t asked. It’d probably be just another reason to get mad at his father who hasn’t once _not_ used his duties as an excuse not to be home in all the years Tsuna has known him.]

In conclusion, people do not call Tsuna on his phone. The last call he’d received had been from the Namimori hospital, so Tsuna feels perfectly justified in reaching for his phone in a panic, slamming his knee against the desk in the process.

"-lo?" he gets out through gritted teeth. _Damn_ , that hurt.

"Tsu."

The long-abandoned nickname, spoken in that particular tone of voice, has Tsuna straighten instinctively, the ache in his knee already forgotten. "What’s wrong?"

A shaky breath carries over the line and Tsuna can just picture the caller drumming his fingers against the nearest available surface in unvoiced frustration. "I need your emergency supplies and I need them now."

" _What?!_ What happened?"

"Ken’s not healing."

Tsuna’s heart stops. For a moment, it’s all he can do to keep on breathing. Then the world rearranges itself, lines, rules, laws and all, and Tsuna says the words he has to say, the words he needs to say because: "I _can’t_."

"I know."

Of course. They’ve both always known. They’ve made sure to draw their lines in the sand years ago.

"Then what?" Tsuna doesn’t finish the question. Can’t bring himself to say it. [ _What use could Dame-Tsuna possibly have?_ ]

"I don’t need your help, Tsu. Just the supplies. The current ones. Meet me for ice cream within the next two hours or don’t bother to come at all."

The call disconnects.

* * *

11.

Forty-six minutes later Tsuna has called in sick, stripped himself of any and all Vongola Inc. technology that could have a tracking chip hidden inside it — so all Vongola Inc. tech, even the prototypes Shoichi has unofficially given him to test.

Now Tsuna is standing in front of a little summer holiday house that is owned by an elderly pair that only comes by once a year for a two-month stay. In the meantime, Tsuna takes care of the little home. It’s baffling that he even remembers that, Tsuna had only mentioned it once during dinner but apparently he’d been listening.

' _Meet me for ice cream_ ’ can mean nothing else — there’s an ice cream pallor right next to it and frankly, the places where the two of them can hide an injured ~~supervillain~~ _don’t think about it_ are limited.

Tsuna stares at the entrance to the quaint little house that somehow looks far more ominous than he remembers it. He regrets all his life choices.

With a exasperated sigh — mostly at himself — Tsuna rings the doorbell. A few moments later, the door is ripped open and Tsuna finds himself grabbed by the collar and pulled into the hallway, the door slammed shut and locked immediately behind him.

So. Many. Regrets.

That evaporate the moment Tsuna finally gets a good look at the one who’s manhandled him into the house and is now looking at Tsuna with shadowed eyes like he’s some sort of miracle.

"You came." He breathes.

"Of course I did, Kusa-kun."

Chikusa’s eyes fall shut for a moment and he shudders bodily. It gives Tsuna a chance to take in the black rings underneath his eyes, the sickly pallor, the tense way he holds his upper body. A not insignificant part of Tsuna wants to force Chikusa to sit down immediately and take a look at whatever injuries he’s trying to hide. But it would be an exercise in futility — clearly Ken is much worse off and Chikusa won’t rest until he knows Ken is cared for and as safe as he can be.

"Did you bring it?" Chikusa asks with a raspy voice, like he hasn’t been drinking enough fluids — again. Tsuna will have to smuggle a glass of water into his hands at the earliest opportunity.

"All here." Tsuna lifts the emergency bag for emphasis. "Come on, show me what I’m working with." _Because the sooner I’ve fixed Ken, the sooner I can put you to bed_.

Chikusa— hesitates.

Tsuna stills. He tries not to take it personally because it isn’t, he knows it isn’t, but the motion sends a painful, tearing sensation through him. "Kusa," he murmurs. "I can’t help him if I don’t know what the problem is and you going through everything in this bag to find a cure will only waste time."

Chikusa shakes his head violently. Visibly steels himself. "I know."

He sounds so miserable, Tsuna kind of wants to hug him. Which is a surprise because Tsuna can’t remember ever having had that urge before. [He can’t remember ever seeing the usual unflappable, emotionless Kakimoto Chikusa so off-balance either.]

Then: "He’s in the living room."

Tsuna exhales. "Want to lead the way or should I go first?"

It earns him Chikusa’s first smile. A waxy, pale imitation of the real thing, but. Good enough for now.

There’s a reason Tsuna always has an emergency bag at hand that would have any first responder worth their salt go green with envy and it’s not _just_ because he’s a hopeless klutz. The truth is, every Vongola squad has emergency supplies that go far beyond bandages and disinfectant, not because supers get injured easily but because even superheroes don’t fight fair.

[The ice packs Shoichi developed are some of his least harmful inventions. And what better way for scientific progress than testing the developed drugs on supervillains evading capture? ~~After all, taking them alive is never the first priority~~. Only fights are tricky and friendly fire is a real danger, particularly when it comes to airborne drugs.

Which is why every Vongola Inc. squad always has antidotes to all currently used drugs at hand.]

The sight of Ken stretched out on a couch that is too small for him — his feet are dangling over the edge — causes Tsuna to pause for a moment. The last time he’d seen Ken, he’d been bleeding out in the streets. There’s bandages covering his torso now, but somehow he looks _worse_ than Tsuna remembers. And that’s. That’s bad.

Ken’s gift isn’t healing, but his body’s metabolism is off-the-charts, even for a super. He’s faster, stronger and recuperates from injuries easier. His wounds — deep, but not life-threatening — should’ve healed in days, _especially_ with medical attention. That they haven’t is a bad sign. That Ken with his enhanced senses doesn’t react at all to Tsuna’s presence, lies pale and lifeless before him, well.

Tsuna gets why Chikusa looks the way he does now. Why he called at all.

Biting his lip, Tsuna gives Ken another long, evaluating look before he opens his emergency bag. He doesn’t ask how Ken got his injuries — he really, really doesn’t want to know — and besides Tsuna has a hunch what the problem is.

[Most of the research in R&D doesn’t go towards healing supers. A lot of it isn’t even focused on finding better ways to kill supers. Tsuna’s been sent to stock up the med supplies often enough, has listened to Shoichi’s rants often enough to know that the main weapon Vongola Inc. is working on — the main weapon _any_ organization related to supers and quite a few supervillains always seem to be working on — is to find a way to control gifts.

To destroy them without killing the superhero. To awaken them in loyal fighters. To influence what kind of gift a person develops. To sharpen and train and weaken and break them. The applications are endless. And terrifying to contemplate.]

Lately, Shoichi has been tightlipped about the newer substances but Tsuna does recall how much the scientist had stressed that Tsuna should never be caught out in the field with several specific doses. That is usually Shoichi’s way to ensure Tsuna knows which antidotes are for the more dangerous poisons — because naturally the teams aren’t briefed on unofficial weapons. The whole 'unofficial' thing wouldn’t hold up to properly informed operatives.

"Any specific symptoms?"

"He’s had several seizures over the last forty-eight hours." Tsuna’s head snaps up in shock. Chikusa’s grim expression says it all. "They’ve been getting worse."

That… narrows it down quite a bit. Chikusa was right to demand the most current supplies, Tsuna is pretty sure he hasn’t heard of such a drug. And once a substance is ready for unofficial field-testing, sooner or later he always hears about them. Or gets unlucky enough to see them in action.

"Anything else?"

"He’s got trouble breathing and he’s thrown up any food or liquid I’ve convinced him to eat."

Tsuna takes the time to slowly sort through the equipment. As urgent as the situation is, it will help no one if he breaks an important vial and get Ken killed. Chikusa would never forgive him.

It takes a few minutes of thought and checking Ken for blown pupils — check —, fever — check — and bruising underneath his finger and toe nails — no sign, thank Kami —, but eventually Tsuna pulls out a blank syringe filled with a light pink substance.

"Chikusa," Tsuna calls out softly when Chikusa tenses at the sight. "You can give him the injection, if that makes you more comfortable. It has to go either in the arm or in the thigh."

"It will fix him?" Chikusa’s voice trembles and somehow that makes it easier for Tsuna to remain calm even though the entire situation makes him want to hide away in a corner and cry. [He and Ken aren't close, but the lack of snarling and snapping and threats is just _wrong_.]

He meets Chikusa’s gaze steadily. "I can’t promise that Kusa-kun. You know I can’t. But it’s my best guess for what they used on him. If this doesn’t work— you’ll need to get him real help. I’m not qualified for this."

For a moment, Chikusa’s bottom lip trembles dangerously. Then he takes a deep breath and the emotionless mask Tsuna knows so well slides over his features like a welcome old friend. "Give me the syringe."

Tsuna hands it over without complaint and hopes, prays, begs he isn’t wrong.

He isn’t. Two hours pass before Tsuna feels comfortable making that judgement, but Ken is definitely improving. His skin has regained some color and while his body temperature has gone up another degree, his wounds are finally starting heal. Tsuna can’t say for sure yet if the poison that’s been introduced into Ken’s system has any longterm consequences — it’s very possible even the Head of Vongola’s R&D department himself wouldn’t know — and he tells Chikusa just that, but for now at least Ken’s survival chances are increasing by the minute.

Tsuna waits another half an hour — far longer than is prudent — before common sense finally wins out. "I should go."

Chikusa — who has drunken two glasses of water and even managed to keep down a sandwich when Tsuna pulled out his own version of Nana’s most hopeful look — shrinks into himself but doesn’t protest. He knows as well as Tsuna that they can’t stay here, not together at least. Even if neither of them have ever acknowledged it out loud, Tsuna has a very good idea just _whom_ Chikusa and Ken are running with.

He’s never asked, never voiced any of the questions that haunt him sometimes [ ~~How can you follow someone like that?~~ ] because Tsuna can’t risk getting tangled up in it all. Loyalty between them, between Tsuna und Chikusa, is already a complicated enough mess to begin with.

He finishes packing up the emergency bag when Chikusa suddenly speaks up.

"I’m sorry, Tsu."

It’s not the words themselves that give Tsuna pause, it’s the sincerity pouring off Chikusa. That— is rarer than he would like to admit.

"What for?"

Chikusa snorts. "Dragging you into this? All of it?" He roughly gestures towards Ken. "But it was the only way. Ken— I can’t lose him and I couldn’t think of another option. I’m sorry, Tsu." There’s something wild in his eyes, like grief but fresher and less sluggish. "He wouldn’t— there was no other option."

"It’s fine, Chikusa." Tsuna says even though his throat feels like sandpaper. His heart is pounding against his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up. Chikusa has asked for medical supplies before, and he’s never once gotten so emotional over it.

He has never in all the years Tsuna has known him apologized for the choices he’s made, no matter how they’ve affected Tsuna.

"I _had_ to save Ken," Chikusa repeats and.

[Loyalty is tricky between the two of them, Tsuna likes to say, because it’s true in a fashion. _Tsuna_ ’s loyalty has always been tangled in messy knots, since he was child too young to understand the weight of the decisions he made. But. Tsuna is dame and stupid and often not even average, but he _knows_ Chikusa.

 ~~Tsuna has always known whom Chikusa would choose if it ever came down to it. If something or someone were to force his hand.~~ ]

 _I forgive you_ , Tsuna doesn’t get the chance to say and perhaps that’s for the best. He hasn’t decided yet if he means those words or not.

"Kufufufufu." An ominous laugh echoes off the walls. "What did I tell you about that soft heart of yours, Kusa-chan?"

Tsuna tenses when he feels the soft breath against his nape but he doesn’t scream. There’s something — his heart, probably, the way it feels right now — in the way and he’s almost grateful for it because the last thing he wants to do is embarrass Chikusa — who always keeps his cards so close to his chest — in front of the man he’s sworn himself to.

He doesn’t turn either. Tsuna knows whom he’d see if he did and he doesn’t want that. It’s stupid and cowardly, but he doesn’t want to know.

[ ~~He doesn’t want to see the face of the mass-murderer that took his brother away from him.~~ ]

"Don’t worry, little Vongola," Rokudou Mukuro murmurs in a mockery of affection, one arm sneaking around Tsuna’s middle like a snake, earning him a shudder, "this will only hurt a little."

Tsuna’s eyes meet Chikusa’s blank ones across the room and even though he’s been in so many bad situations lately — so many worse than this one even — even though it’s stupid and Tsuna has always kind of hoped he wouldn’t be weak enough to beg for mercy if he ever found himself in a situation such as this, no matter how low everyone’s expectations of him are, he can’t help but call out.

"Nii-san—"

The world splinters and _b r e a k s_.

* * *

12.

"Watch were you’re going!" the hooded person whom Tsuna stumbles into while walking towards his small table near the window snaps.

"I’m so sorry!" Tsuna stares in horror at the mess. His coffee is dripping down the person’s sleeve. "Are you hurt? Did it burn you?"

He blinks multiple times in quick succession when his vision swims before his eyes for a moment. Ever since the incident four days ago, his head’s been bothering him.

[The doctor had warned him that concussions are tricky and that he should avoid overtaxing himself, for example by staring at things — like a computer screen, the TV or even a book — for too long. 'Rest as much as possible' had been her recommendation. Considering Tsuna in true Tsuna-fashion had also broken his wrist and gotten some bruises around the area of his spine that made the doctor fuss more than usual, rest wasn’t a problem. Tsuna has been signed off work for a week and will serve desk duty for at least two months longer than initially planned.]

Not that he’s complaining. Lately, his luck really has taken a turn for the worst. Hell, Tsuna doesn’t even remember the incident that led to him being found unconscious at the bottom of an abandoned warehouse down at the docks by Hibari-senpai of all people. Though apparently short-term memory loss is none too unusual in cases like these. His doctor had been more worried about the back injuries — even supers don’t heal from _anything_ , after all.

Honestly, Mochida had been more pissed off by the fact that Tsuna had managed to lose yet another medical emergency bag than about his sick leave. Sure, they’re all equipped with a self-destruction mechanism when handled by someone without clearance, but that doesn’t mean its contents grow on trees. At least not if Mochida-san’s two hour long lecture is to be believed.

[Hana had later told Tsuna that apparently this month’s budget meeting had been a huge pain and Mochida has been in a terrible mood ever since.]

The person — they’re wearing a hood that covers their face entirely — stares down at their dripping sleeve. "I will charge you for running into me, the damage to my clothes and the time your ridiculous inquiry is costing me," they inform Tsuna in an even voice.

Tsuna blinks some more before the realization drops. "Oh. Yes, sure, of course." He stutters and makes to pull out his wallet. Only his wallet isn’t in his pocket. Tsuna carefully sets the trail down — not that there’s much coffee left to save at this point — and pats all his pockets. No, the wallet is still missing.

Now, Tsuna is a forgetful, clumsy person. The amount of times he has lost or misplaced his wallet is ridiculous and has led to him only keeping the absolute minimum of necessities in it.

[He doesn’t even have a security clearance card for Vongola Inc. headquarters because in his first three months Tsuna had to report his card missing fourteen times until the head of security decided it would just be easier for all his underlings to remember Tsuna’s face instead of validating and invalidating access passes all the time.

Considering the system works just fine and Tsuna’s never been refused access to an area he had a right to be in, he honestly doesn’t mind.]

But Tsuna just paid for his coffee. Which means he either left it with the cashier on accident or — much more likely — it got stolen. Within the three minutes it took him to cross the room. How is that even possible? Tsuna feels his shoulders slump a little at the thought. It seems to fit into the kind of week he’s having.

"I’m sorry," he repeats to the person still waiting with an impatient look at their non-existent watch. "I seem to have lost my wallet. But of course I’ll pay for the damage, just give me your contact information—"

"No contact information," the person interrupts cooly. "Information is money and you’ve already wasted enough of mine. I only accept cash."

When all Tsuna does is stare blankly, the person scoffs loudly and turns on their heels.

"Wait!" Tsuna digs through his pockets and pulls out a couple of crumbled notes. It’s an old habit of his to never carry all money in the same place — precisely for this reason, though back at school it used to be bullies that snatched away his lunch money — and it appears it’s still paying off. He counts them quickly and while it’s no fortune, it should cover the cleaning for the coat.

The person turns and stares for a moment when Tsuna holds out the crumbled bills. "Only cash, right?"

Then they snatch the money and leave without another word.

"Oh honey." a waitress comes up to him. "You realize they robbed you blind, right?"

Tsuna blinks, the clogs in his — even more sluggish than usual — mind turning slowly. Oh. That. That makes sense actually. But why would they risk their coat just for the meager contents of Tsuna’s wallet?

Tsuna pats himself down again. Discovers the last of his loose change in the inner pocket of his jacket.

"Still, I’m sorry for the inconvenience." He drops the money in the tip jar and sends the waitress a feeble smile.

[ ~~He feels so tired.~~ ]

* * *

13.

Tsuna is young and his world is simple. It's divided into two kinds of people: people who are like him and people who are not.

[As he grows, he will eventually realize that there is a third type of people, those who do not stand out to him at all, but by that point he’ll already have the proper words to fit them into the socially accepted category of 'civilians' and never waste so much as another thought on it.]

As a young child, Tsuna doesn’t have that advantage. He knows of those two types of people, knows his father is _like_ Tsu-kun as surely as he knows the little girl with the bouncy hair living across the street is _not_. But Tsuna doesn’t yet have the words for what that means and so he spends quite a lot of time thinking about it, probing that feeling, trying to figure out what it _means_.

[Tsuna grows up in a world where superheroes and supervillains are common and parents are encouraged to begin testing their children’s alignments as early as possible. He grows up with goodnight stories, TV shows and advertisements that tell him superheroes are big and strong and protect innocent civilians and supervillains are evil, cackle a lot and have weird hair.

But although Tsuna is not yet Dame-Tsuna, he is already starting to fall behind, slower to pick up on social cues that come easy to most children in his age group, and so Tsuna knows of heroes and villains and never once applies the concept to the people in his life.

 ~~And why would he? Tsuna is not yet Dame-Tsuna, but he is too weak, too stupid, too slow and his father is many things, but Tsuna’s hero he is not.~~ ]

Tsuna is five when he figures it out.

He is five and alone on his way back from the playground because Kaasan has forgotten to pick him up when he stumbles over a hurt man lying on the street. The man is not _like_ him, Tsuna knows immediately, and he’s also bleeding which means he must be hurt really badly.

When Tsuna asks the man if he needs help, the man startles and even though he glares meanly at him, Tsuna knows he isn’t really angry. ~~Is so very afraid~~. So even though Tsuna shivers and carefully steps out of reach, he doesn’t leave, not even when the man orders him to. ~~He doesn’t mean it.~~

The man snarls and Tsuna flinches but he doesn’t run. [Even though he really, really wants to. But Papa always says a real man doesn’t run away.]

"How can Tsu-kun help?" Tsuna asks.

The question makes the man laugh, raspy and sadder than a laugh should sound. Tsuna doesn’t understand why, doesn’t understand the words the man mumbles next. But somehow their eyes meet and even then the man sighs. It’s an even sadder sound than the laugh was. Tsuna’s heart aches.

"Just stay, kid," the man says and Tsuna does. [ ~~He understands.~~ ]

[ _"It’s gonna be okay, mister."_

_Another laugh, more broken than the last._

_A cough. Blood splatters._

_Quiet, barely audible: "Don’t leave."_ ]

He stays until the man falls asleep. Until a woman carrying two large bags filled with groceries stumbles upon him and drops them both with a loud scream. Until the police — the _superheroes_ — come and one of them puts a warm, scratchy blanket over Tsuna’s trembling shoulders and asks him silly questions like if the man has done anything to him and if he remembers his name and where his parents are.

His worried kaasan picks him up from the police station and though Tsuna doesn’t complain, he doesn’t grasp why she is so upset either.

No, the man hasn’t hurt him. Tsuna helped him — watched over him — and in return the man has helped Tsuna finally figure out what that itch in the back of his mind is. What it all means.

He doesn’t tell them that last part because Tsuna is a little embarrassed that it’s taken him this long to figure out — and he’s not Dame-Tsuna yet, but he’s already quieter, already less sure of himself, already unwilling to give someone else a reason to call him slow. So he doesn’t say anything, but something inside his chest settles that day.

He doesn’t see the man again, but maybe that’s alright. Because Tsuna understands now.

[Tsuna is five and his world is divided into two kinds of people: those — like him — who _have_ a home and those who _need_ one.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned for some angst from the get-go because heroes/villains. This turned far darker than I expected, but well, hopefully that will give the various relationships more room to develop? *smiles weakly* At least Skull is a sweetheart, but we already knew that.  
> Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think in the comments!


	3. Security System Devised By Leading Experts Demolished By Angst-ing Trainee With A Cardboard Box

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna makes a series of bad decisions. Most of them with good intentions. [It’s all in the title, really.]

14.

The head of the Vongola Inc.’s R&D team is found dead in his office, smack in the middle of superhero territory. Shoichi is stark white when he tells Tsuna about how they found him still twitching on the floor, eyes unseeing, his brain liquified leaking slowly out of his ears.

"We don’t know how it was done," he murmurs and pushes his untouched lunch away. [ ~~It’s VongolaInc. tech speak for ' _We’ve failed to replicate it but we’ll keep trying_ '~~.] "The autopsy report says his brain was literally fried."

Tsuna forces himself not to cringe and firmly ignores the foreboding feeling he can’t quite pin down. [ ~~Of course the man is dead, he touched one of~~ —] Rubs his temples in the vain hope the pulsing headache will finally die down.

"Hibari-senpai must not be pleased," Tsuna says. Neither is Vongola as a whole, but considering he barely interacts with the head of the organization, that’s a much less pronounced concern. Sure, Vongola will track down the ones responsible and retaliate, but it won’t be Tsuna’s squad that will have to handle the clean-up.

Thus, Tsuna feels justified in his decision to put the matter out of his mind. It’s terrible, but supers die all the time and this particular tragedy really is none of his business. [ ~~Tsuna may not have wished him dead, has never wished anyone dead, but he has never trusted Talbot~~.]

* * *

15.

Something — a lingering tension he hasn’t managed to erase, for all that he hasn’t run into an Arcobaleno in days [and how sad is his life, that 'days' are an actual accomplishment?]— in Tsuna’s shoulders eases the moment he steps through the door of his childhood home. And it is _home_ in a way Tsuna’s own apartment, the one Iemitsu insisted on because _real men don’t live at home with their mother for the rest of their lives now, do they, Tsu-kun_ , still isn’t.

Tsuna follows the sound of amicable chatter and his mother’s light laugh — as well as the delicious smell — into the kitchen, where his family is already in the last stages of preparing the traditional monthly Sawada family meal.

"Welcome home, Tsu-kun." Nana’s smiles is a medicine all of its own and nothing anyone says will convince Tsuna otherwise. Even her gaze, flitting over his features, drinking him in without lingering for too long on the still bruised skin around his temple and bandages around his wrist, feels gentle.

"Tsuna." The greeting is echoed softly from across the room, where Chikusa is setting the table. [They always put out four plates, even though it’s only ever been the three of them.] "It’s good to see you."

"Likewise, Chikusa." Tsuna hopes his smile doesn’t look as tired as he feels.

Unlike his mother, Chikusa doesn’t gloss over the visible signs of his "heroic adventures" as Nanalikes to call it. He doesn’t say anything — Chikusa rarely does — but the way his eyes linger and his expression remains completely blank, no hint of the faint upturn of lips Tsuna usually receives, speaks for itself.

Tsuna prays he won’t get another dizzy spell and tries not to limp on his way to the table. [His legs are unhurt, but while his bruised back is healing fine, it’s still bothering him — more so now than it did after he first woke up, ironically enough. His muscles are sore and it makes finding a comfortable position to sit or sleep in almost impossible.]

Chikusa watches quietly while Tsuna fumbles his way through small talk with Nana. [ _Yes_ , his team is doing well. _Yes_ , he did like the scarf she’s sent him. _No_ , he hasn’t run into Iemitsu lately, but he’ll be sure to pass Nana’s love on if he does. _No_ , nothing out of the ordinary has happened.] He doesn’t join in, contends himself with listening as Tsuna’s mother chatters on and on, face alight with happiness, occasionally interrupted by Tsuna’s feeble inputs. Of course, Chikusa never bothers with small talk, not unless Nana makes him.

His eyes haven’t stopped tracking Tsuna’s every motion since he’s entered the kitchen though. Which is not as unusual as Tsuna would like it to be, but today it’s making him even more twitchy than usual. [He still hasn’t regained his equilibrium after being stalked by a freaking _Arcobaleno,_ sue him.]

It’s when they start eating and Tsuna automatically reaches for the chopsticks with his right hand, only to have to switch to his left one because the thick bandages keep getting in the way, that Chikusa strikes.

"What happened to your hand?"

The question is so unexpected, it gives Tsuna pause. A piece of salmon hovers half-way between his plate and his mouth. They rarely comment on each other’s appearance. Not even that one time Chikusa arrived with half his hair shorn off and a burned off eyebrow that had miraculously healed by the time their next family dinner came about. Tsuna, for one, is hyper-aware of how quickly this type of question leads into definitely-don’t-share-with-a-supervillain-even-if-he’s-sitting-at-your-dinner-table territory. Besides Tsuna gets injured all the time. That much hasn’t changed since middle school.

Then again, Chikusa tends to get a very specific, totally blank look that isn’t fooling anyone when he looks at Tsuna’s injuries for too long — one that plainly states he isn’t gonna ask or come out and say it, but he’s _displeased_.

It’s not like Chikusa to break the pattern, not when he was the one to put it in place.

"Ah." Tsuna tries for a laugh. "There was an incident at work a couple of days ago and I got robbed?"

"Oh my." Nana gasps. "Tsu-kun, you should have called!"

"It’s not a big deal." Tsuna shrugs and tries to ignore the flare of pain behind his temples. There’s no point in explaining that a robbery is one of the best case situations he can get himself into at work. That it’s mostly just embarrassing how easily someone took him down and made off with his medical kit — and how no one at Vongola Inc. was the slightest bit surprised that it happened to him.

"They beat you up?" Chikusa’s question, light and completely calm [too calm], makes Tsuna twitch. There’s nothing in the other boy’s appearance that would suggest tension or annoyance [that slow, all-encompassing fury, a fog that swallows everything there is and leaves nothing behind], but there’s just something that _pings_ Tsuna’s radar. For the life of him, he can’t figure out what it is.

"No, no. I mean, not really?" Tsuna trips over his own tongue in his hurry. He’s read Vongola’s report on the scene and the analysis of his injuries. So, though his memory stubbornly refuses to return and might never recover, if his doctor is to be believed, Tsuna has a pretty good understanding of what happened. And it’s _embarrassing_. Not as embarrassing as having Chikusa hunt down answers on his own though. And he most definitely would. Once he bothers to show even the slightest bit of interest, he’s like a dog with a bone. "I was in the industrial district, checking one of the abandoned factories and someone must have seen an opportunity and knocked me out."

[ ~~Wrong.~~ ]

His head _aches_.

"That doesn’t explain the injuries, Tsuna."

Tsuna shakes it, lightly, in hopes of dispelling the unsettling dizziness and ignores the light blush on his cheeks. "W-Well, you see… They left me on the upper floor. When I woke up I must have been dizzy and disoriented and I kinda— felldownthestairs." Tsuna rushes the last part out as fast as possible in a vain hope that Chikusa will ignore it.

Chikusa doesn’t ignore it. The chopsticks in his hand break with an unsettling _crack_ that make Tsuna flinch.

"I see."

"My Tsu-kun, always so clumsy." Nana giggles.

For a moment Chikusa’s _blankness_ intensifies, seems to flex and warp around them not unlike a wild animal about to lash out, the air thick and thrumming with tension. Then he exhales and the moment breaks.

"Pass the soy sauce please, Mamma?"

* * *

16.

Tsuna returns to 'Neutral Ground’ sooner than he’d expected to — it’s the third time within a month already. Somehow he’s unsurprised to find himself once again seated next to a brooding Leviathan of the Varia. It’s starting to look almost like a habit at this point.

Tsuna would be more upset about that if Leviathan wasn’t the calmest interaction with a villain he’s had in months. Which is ironic, considering he belongs to the Varia of all people, but people have a habit of surprising you.

Sometimes.

Granted, usually for the worse, but that’s not the point Tsuna is trying to make here. The point is, Leviathan is once more slumped over in his seat, doing his utmost best to appear small for all that the man is at least one head taller than Tsuna and twice as broad, clinging to his usual glass of whiskey like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. He’s not crying but his eyes are the kind of glassy that indicates more than its fair share of alcohol, so it’s probably just a matter of time.

It should probably worry Tsuna that he knows that. Or maybe it should worry him that he isn’t worried — no more than at any given moment in his life — to be sitting here, smack within gutting distance of one of the Varia’s messier killers. Not that the Varia tend to go for clean kills in general.

Leviathan isn’t _safe_. Tsuna may be stupid, but he’s not that stupid and supers as a rule are never safe. But there’s nothing suggesting that he’s looking to hurt Tsuna, is looking for a fight at all. It’s enough for now.

Tsuna orders himself a beer and lets his thoughts drift. His headache is mostly gone, but giving his eyes a rest from staring at bright screens and focusing on Hana’s tiny, unrealistically neat handwriting doesn’t hurt.

Leviathan sighs deeply.

"D-Do you want to talk about it?" Tsuna blurts out before his mind catches up with the question and his eyes widen in horror.

Next to him, Leviathan stills. It’s not the kind of instinctive pause caused by a healthy sense of suspicion — although Tsuna really, really doesn’t know how he knows that. That’s there too, of course, as is only expected in any super worth the training they’re put through, but it’s overshadowed by something else.

When was the last time anyone asked Leviathan this very question, Tsuna wonders and isn’t surprised when the man starts to talk. Quiet and careful, not revealing anything too incriminating — nothing worse than an empathetic _fuck Vongola_ that can be excused as the frustration of a reluctant ally — but once he starts he doesn’t seem willing to stop any time soon.

And Tsuna listens.

* * *

17.

Headquarters are quiet and deserted — not an unusual occurrence at two forty in the morning. There are a few lone security guards patrolling the seven floors every hour, but that’s the only life to be found.

Tsuna doesn’t mind. He doesn’t like being all alone in his team’s office — the darkness outside the glass windows and quiet is unsettling — but it’s far more relaxing than the eight to four shift that is filled with endless meetings, the usual morning rush and once a month a badly-planned supervillain attack by some newbies trying to prove themselves.

At night though, nothing much happens. Tsuna spends his work hours catching up on the paperwork of his teammates, shifting through the never-ending stream of mostly useless information Vongola has to analyze on a daily basis and occasionally read up on secret files and mission logs that really aren’t any of Tsuna’s business.

That last habit is admittedly a bad one he’s been trying to kick, but well. It’s not like Tsuna has ever hidden his access. It’s just that someone apparently took a glance at his credentials, saw that he is Sawada Iemitsu’s son and that had been that. Tsuna hadn’t protested, but he also hasn’t asked for it.

Anyway. It’s also that last, troublesome habit that is currently biting him in the ass. Because Tsuna— He’s never searched for anything in particular. Always just read what caught his interest. Out of curiosity and boredom. Never because of some hidden agenda.

And Tsuna doesn’t plan to change that.

But.

Ever since he spent three hours listening to the drunken ramblings of Leviathan of the Varia a few nights ago, the thought has been in the back of his mind. And it _itches_. Because Leviathan hasn’t said much, but Tsuna is very good at reading between the lines and he’s also read his fair share of seriously classified report on Vongola-sanctioned Varia missions. That gives him more context to work with than the average superhero has.

[The Arcobaleno are seven powerful individuals, loosely connected by their shared position as the strongest supervillains in the world. The Varia are elite assassins who come as close to straddling the line between superhero and supervillain as one can get, but their greatest strength comes in the fact that they are a squad, a team. They work together and they have their own code of conduct. In their own definition of the word, they are loyal _to each other_ as well as the mission.]

Tsuna has never asked himself how Vongola Inc. and the Varia reached an understanding. He never needed to. The deal between both organizations has been in place for years, what does it matter?

It matters to Leviathan though and that. That changes things.

Because when half on his way to passing out, the man murmured a barely audible "We don’t even know if he’s alive anymore." what Tsuna heard was ' _I made myself a home and they took it from me_.'

Which is why Tsuna finds his fingers hovering over his keyboard for the fifth time in the past hour. Considering.

So Vongola Inc. has captured the leader of the Varia and held him hostage against his men ever since. There’s not much Tsuna can do about that. The mere idea is ridiculous.

[Besides Tsuna isn’t _completely_ stupid. He’s not sure he’d help even if he could because the Varia earned their reputation the hard way. And yes, maybe it’s cruel, but maybe keeping them on a short leash is necessary. Tsuna wouldn’t know. It’s not the kind of decision he’s ever had to make, to weigh lives and causalities and potential outcomes against each other and decide which ones are not worth saving.

Because Tsuna is weak and pathetic and useless ~~and on some days, when a superhero squad is sent out on a suicide mission because a distraction was needed, when civilian hostages are killed in the explosion taking out the supervillain because their potential rescue came at too high a cost, when Tsuna catches a glance at the ninth CEO of Vongola Inc. from all the way across the entrance hall and sees the blood dripping down the man’s hands, the weight of his choices constantly pulling on his shoulders, he thinks _that won’t ever be me_ and he is eternally grateful for it~~.]

But Leviathan is one huge, jagged wound that refuses to stop bleeding and Tsuna can almost see the way the man’s despair is slowly eating him alive. He doesn’t want that. He wants to help. And he can. Tsuna might not be able to have Xanxus released, but he can find out if the man is still alive. If he’s well. He can give Leviathan that much. Maybe it will be enough.

Tsuna’s fingers twitch. He’s probably gonna regret this, but Leviathan had looked so despondent— With a deep sigh, Tsuna resigns himself to the inevitable victory of his empathy over his arguably underdeveloped common sense and starts typing.

There is no file on _di Varia, Xanxus_. There is, however, a file on _di Vongola, Xanxus_.

In the back of Tsuna’s mind, the itch intensifies. This is- This is so not a good thing. Unfortunately, now Tsuna is also curious. Which means that, instead of running the other way, he reads the damn file. In its entirety.

The fact that he now knows how, exactly, Vongola Inc. — more specifically, the ninth CEO himself — has gotten lucky enough to get his hands on him is bad enough. That Tsuna realizes with startling clarity that Xanxus is the Ninth’s _son_ is quite possibly reason enough to get himself a first place ticket to the next available suicide mission. But Tsuna has accessed arguably more dangerous information before so that’s not what actually stops him in his tracks.

It’s the note. Behind Xanxus’ status — which reads 'Contained', implying _alive_ , Leviathan will be so glad to hear it — there is a note.

UP/G9-LO087-E9

Tsuna knows that code. He wishes he didn’t though.

* * *

18.

"One moment." Irie Shoichi’s hands fly over the keyboard. "One mostly superhuman-safe cold back for your next painful meeting with a villain’s fist, coming up."

"Ha ha." Tsuna curiously peers over his sort-of-acquaintance’s shoulder. Irie-kun is almost as bad at socializing as Tsuna, which helps both of them be somewhat functional human beings when interacting with each other. So long as there are no other people around. A crowd makes Irie-kun twitchy — and anything more than two people counts as a crowd. Just ask Hibari-senpai.

"How do you keep track of all these numbers? This just looks like gibberish."

"It’s like very simple a code language." Irie-kun shrugs, but doesn’t stop typing. "Every letter and number refers to a specific part of the experiment. We use the standard filing system for everything in the file, but we can’t just number our experiments the way you number your cases. We’d never find anything and besides most of them can be grouped in specific categories. That’s what Dr. Talbot developed the system for. It’s actually quite brilliant in its simplicity."

As per usual, Irie-kun’s eyes start to glitter and his whole being seems to lighten from his usual, anxious form once he’s distracted by a topic he’s passionate about. And not told to shut up, which Tsuna unfortunately knows only too many of his colleagues do. Mostly because they’re usually in a hurry and don’t have the time — nor care — for the scientific details behind their equipment so long as it does its job. That applies to Tsuna as well, but he just doesn’t have the heart to cut Irie-kun off when he gets like this.

"See that?" Irie-kun turns his screen into Tsuna’s direction. "Every experiment is categorized regarding the type, the object and its executor. The most common type is tested procedure [TP], which means that the experiment is a repeat of a former experiment, whether that failed or succeed doesn’t matter. Sometimes it’s an exact replica, but more often than not we either vary some condition to figure out how it affects the end-result or we try to improve it. Experiments that don’t already have a baseline because they’re something completely new or so significantly different from a known experiment they can’t be grouped with it, are classified as untested procedures [UP]. And then there’s unknown procedures [UKP], but those are rare, mostly when you guys bring us something a supervillain made and we have no idea how they went about it."

"What’s that?" Tsuna points at one of the opened files, filled with data that makes his head spin.

"The 'G' with the slash?" Irie-kun’s grin widens further. "Those are the best! It stands for "with gift" and refers to experiments that focus on a super gifts. If it’s the gifts of our people and we’re testing their application or limits then we just refer to the person, otherwise the gifts are sorted by the usual physical and mental categories— Oh. I can stop if you want." Irie-kun interrupts himself so suddenly, it takes Tsuna a moment to catch on. He recognizes the techie’s expression though. It’s the one people wear when remembering that Tsuna doesn’t have a gift.

"It’s fine." Tsuna waves off before Irie-kun embarrasses them both. His lack of a gift isn’t as debilitating as supers — especially those with strong gifts — assume. Tsuna is used to failing every super standard, this one added failure won’t make it any worse. "What’s with the others then? The- uhm, the objects and the executioner?"

"Executor," Irie-kun corrects. "And they are the ones responsible for the experiment. As for objects, depending on the nature of the experiment, there are living objects, non-living objects and dead objects involved. Sometimes when a specific artifact or something along those lines is involved, we categorize it further, but usually that’s not needed."

"I see," says Tsuna and decides not to ask if living and dead objects both include supers. Besides his team must be wondering where he is — he’s supposed to get their field equipment after all.

* * *

19.

Tsuna is raised by Nana and it matters.

Iemitsu is a warrior, a fighter, a man raised to believe that strength is man’s true measure and the only way to win a battle is to be the only one left standing. A true superhero, righteous if not always just. And yet. There is no more evil, no less good in Iemitsu than in any other human and for all his faults, Iemitsu loves his family.

But above all else — _before_ all else — Iemitsu is a _Vongola_. Nana is not.

[Nana is kind and gentle and a romantic at heart and thus the fairy tales she reads her son always have a happy ending and the villain always sees the error of their way. Nana is oblivious and naive and has never known how to fight a battle for herself and thus she does not notice anything odd about the fading bruises on her son’s skin, does not defend him, does not teach him to stand up for himself.]

The truth is: Iemitsu could have been a good parent.

[Iemitsu is ridiculous and sharp in equal measures, is trapped between the adoration for the family he wants and the loyalty to a cause he believes in and maybe he would have raised Tsuna to stand tall and take pride in his history, his abilities, would have taught Tsuna how to believe in himself. Maybe he would have taught Tsuna _what_ to believe as well, would have raised a son loyal to Vongola above else or as close as he could get.]

The truth is also: Iemitsu chose to not be a parent. Nana did not.

In the grand scheme of things, it might not make much of a difference. Perhaps Tsuna would have been better off, stronger and more confident, in the care of his father. Perhaps he would have remained the same shy, insecure child, easily crushed under the weight of his father’s expectations. Perhaps he would have grown up Vongola’s man through and through. Perhaps he would’ve lead the charge from the inside. The possibilities are endless and Tsuna is more than the product of his parents’ actions.

But even if it’s just once, a tiny, insignificant moment, a single decision, this is where it does matter: Tsuna stares at the boy with the blue beanie and the dead eyes his mother brings home and he thinks _you don’t have a home either_.

[And see, Iemitsu might have raised him to raise his hackles at this stranger, this intruder, this _threat_ , might have taught him to protect and defend ~~to the death~~ that which is his, but Tsuna has grown up with a mother who invites strangers in for lunch because they look too skinny and falls for every scam there is and hands over her groceries to the little boy that failed to steal her wallet. ~~He is raised by the woman who traces the faces on her wedding picture with empty eyes because Nana has been searching for a home her entire life and it _left_ her.~~]

 _Don’t worry_ , Tsuna thinks in equal parts scared and determined and not yet sure which feeling will win out [it’s determination], _I’ll share mine with you_.

* * *

20.

UP/G9-LO087-E9

The code haunts him. It follows Tsuna home after work, at 7.30 in the morning, paler and a little more shaky than usual. It follows him through a simple breakfast from which Tsuna doesn’t taste a bite and even into his dreams.

[ ~~He is trapped. He can’t get out. He’s surrounded entirely, there is no air and his lungs burn and he’s been _buried alive_ and he **_can’t get out_** —~~]

Tsuna wakes after four hours of restless sleep, drenched in sweat and skin clammy, clawing at his own chest until there’s blood under his fingernails. By evening Tsuna feels not unlike a living corpse, faintly aware of his body but not truly present. His thoughts are stuck in an endless circle of how could he, how could he do this to _his own son_ and the itchy sensation in the back of his mind is growing worse with every new question, every dangerous train of thought that Tsuna follows.

He’s always known, of course. Tsuna is stupid, but he’s not naive. Vongola doesn’t suffer traitors, that he knows all too well.

[There was a boy in Tsuna’s squad back when they were first put together. He made jokes and he always greeted Tsuna by name and he was a terrible liar.

He was caught giving out access codes and login information to Vongola Inc. accounts during their third month and was never seen again.]

But this isn’t an execution. This is. Tsuna doesn’t even know _what_ it is. Because it’s not what the code stands for that bothers him — though that certainly doesn’t help — it’s the code itself.

A code Tsuna has stared at for years when his squad sent him down to the cellar to grab the really old files that were still written on paper or some misfiled piece of evidence that ended up in what is commonly referred to as Vongola’s "rubbish bin". The open archives where all the items and papers and many, many curious objects that weren’t dangerous or interesting enough to disappear into R&D are collecting dust. Among the many odd, mismatching things down there, there’s one that’s always caught Tsuna’s eye — an ice sculpture that doesn’t melt, not even in the summer of ’18, when the generator was destroyed during an attack and the entire building was without AC for a week.

UP/G9-LO087-E9

Untested procedure with the gift of the Ninth. On living object 087 — Xanxus di Vongola’s deactivated employer ID number. Tsuna wants to throw up. Again.

In a way it makes perfect sense. The moment Vongola put a leash on the Varia, they would have fought it. They would have searched for their leader. Every hidden safe house, every secret prison they would have targeted and eventually, sooner or later, they would have found something. A trace, an employee willing to talk, a simple stroke of luck. But they haven’t because this is one place where they wouldn’t have looked, where no one would have looked—

 _And wouldn’t that have made the victory all the more satisfying?_ a dark voice that sounds oddly like the Arcobaleno Reborn whispers. The sick feeling in Tsuna’s stomach intensifies because it is right.

—and so they haven’t found a trace after eight long years. No wonder, Leviathan is so close to giving up. It’s a miracle they’ve held on this long and speaks of a loyalty Tsuna can barely comprehend.

Eight years. Xanxus has been frozen alive for eight years. The Ninth froze his nineteen year old son alive — he was younger than Tsuna is now.

["I’ll inform Superbia," Sawada Iemitsu tells the unfamiliar man in his office just as Tsuna enters.

The stranger hesitates. "Are you sure they will yield?"

Iemitsu chuckles and there’s something about the sound of it that freezes Tsuna in place. Something dark and gleeful and so very ~~_baddangerousbequietanddon’tdrawattentiontoyourself_~~. "Oh, don’t worry. He will."]

There are many terrible things in this world, many of which happen to better people than the man Xanxus di Vongola was said to be. Yet this bothers Tsuna in a way few things do. Because he’s walked past a frozen man for years and hasn’t realized, yes. Because all their crimes don’t actually justify the pain in Leviathan’s eyes. [If you only protest a person’s actions because they are using them _against_ you instead of _for_ you, then you don’t really have the right to play judge and jury, do you?] Because maybe Xanxus deserved imprisonment or death, but in that case he should’ve received it properly.

Because it’s wrong. And because deep down, Tsuna _wonders_.

[He’s always been dame, always been no good, but what if he hadn’t been? The only test he’s aced in his entire school career has been the alignment test, but what if he hadn’t? What if he’d tested for villain instead of hero? What if he’d had no interest in joining Vongola Inc. after High School? What if he’d refused? What if he hadn’t been a push-over, a quiet nobody, what if he’d wanted something else for his life and what if those wants hadn’t aligned with Vongola’s needs? Would his father have made the same choice the Ninth did?

 ~~After all, his loyalty has always been to Vongola first.~~ ]

Tsuna barely makes it to the toilet in time.

* * *

21.

Tsuna is four minutes late to work and drenched through to the bones. The security guard at the entrance sends him a sympathetic look — they haven’t seen hide nor hair of the sun in three days and Tsuna can’t believe he forgot his umbrella, but he did — and waves him through as usual. At least the fact that he looks like something dead the cat dragged in helps cover the dark shadows under his eyes and his occasional twitching up nicely.

Even Hana, who is more attentive than people give her credit for only tells him to make himself a cup of tea on her way out. Twenty minutes later Mochida is also finished with his paperwork and heads home, leaving Tsuna once more the sole member of his team to work through the night shift.

He’s grateful for the solitude. More so than usual.

[Tsuna’s spent the last two hours at home, curled up on his bathroom floor, crying, and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t have faked normal with even his most inattentive squad member.]

For the first three hours of his shift, Tsuna works as usual, if slower and more easily distracted. At 11.37 he pulls up the files for the coffee shop incident with the flying piranhas. Notes that Irie-kun has requested two of the fish cadavers for science purposes. Checks where the dead fish ended up. Realizes that they’ve been misfiled and have been dropped off in the rubbish bin on accident.

Tsuna sighs and gets up from his chair. [ _I can do this_.]

He makes his way down to the ground floor, past Wes and Mia, two of the guards on schedule, who nod at him in recognition. Tsuna drops by at the rubbish bin often enough to be a familiar face even here and Mia opens the door for him without even asking.

Tsuna mumbles a thank you that comes out barely audible and enters.

The rubbish bin is huge. Row upon row of shelves filled with barely sorted bits and pieces. Employees have been known to spend hours upon hours searching for the one object they need — or getting lost, never to return. Those last ones are likely a myth though.

Unlike most people Tsuna doesn’t mind going there. Although he doesn’t always find what he needs, he always stumbles upon interesting things on his search. This time though, he finds the dead fish within ten minutes of looking. They’re thankfully still packed off properly or else Irie-kun would have a fit.

And. Tsuna absolutely plans to take the fish and get the hell out of the rubbish bin. He really does. But he takes a wrong turn and then another and instead of ending up in front of the entrance, suddenly he finds himself standing in front of— it. UP/G9-LO087-E9.

Tsuna swallows. Now that he _knows_ he wonders how he didn’t see it before. The statue is clearly human shaped and at least half a head taller than Tsuna, though its features aren’t very detailed. Probably the only reason they got away with putting it right where everyone would see and no one would think twice about it.

Tsuna swallows again. And stares some more.

This is such a stupid idea. Really. Of all the stupid, suicidal things Tsuna has done in his life, this has to take the cake. Besides Tsuna can’t break Xanxus out. Really. How would he even go about something like that—

His gaze is drawn to the huge, empty cardboard boxes that are piled on the shelf to his left. Then back to the frozen statue _that_ isn’t that much taller than Tsuna himself. And hasn’t he seen a forklift somewhere around here before? That… that could work.

Fifty minutes later an out-of-breath Tsuna has managed to maneuver the ice sculpture into a large cardboard box used for shipping, filled out all the empty places with lots of packing paper, taped it shut and cover the entire packet in BREAKABLE stickers. Better safe than sorry.

Then because Tsuna doesn’t own a car, carrying around over 100 kilos of frozen water is so far beyond him, it’s not even funny and Vongola Inc. prides itself on one of the most reliable and discrete postal services any company has, Tsuna puts one of the pre-made stamps for company packages on it, addresses it to the warehouse where Tsuna was found unconscious — because it’s the first address that comes to mind — and dumps the entire packet in the far back right next to the delivery entrance where the other packages are already waiting for tomorrow’s shipping.

"I regret this already," Tsuna says very softly to himself and resolutely turns his back onto the package.

It probably won’t work anyway. He’ll probably be taken to a holding cell before he finishes his shift and never see daylight again. Tsuna should be worried — and he will be, just as soon as the adrenaline rush wears off — but right now he actually feels surprisingly good about himself. [ ~~Because deep down, nothing will convince Tsuna that what was done to Xanxus could ever be right. Because deep down, Tsuna knows with a certainty that scares him, _that could have been me_~~.] Good enough to murmur a quiet "Good night," to Wes and Mia on his way out — after they routinely check the dead fish he’s carrying and wave him through.

* * *

22.

The ice sculpture is placed on a specific spot in Vongola’s "rubbish bin" — and there’s more than one higher up member of the organization that takes great delight in placing trash where it belongs — that has been carefully chosen and remains in direct line of sight of no less than three security cameras at all times.

A week before Tsuna’s latest trip to said rubbish bin, a young agent knocks over the container of an endlessly growing cactus that forces them to reorganize an entire quarter of the shelves in an attempt to save as much as possible from destruction via volatile cactus. The sculpture is placed out of the way of the continuously growing threat and out of sight, out of mind it remains.

[If it hadn’t already been eight years, perhaps Vongola would have been more vigilant.]

Vongola’s prized personal delivery service is very good at its job. All packages are shipped off and delivered on time, safely transported no matter how sensitive its content. The data of all deliveries is kept exactly two weeks as required. Long enough to trace missing shipments, but not long enough to endanger a potentially sensitive operation by leaving valuable data about Vongola Inc.’s movements and business relations behind for anyone’s taking.

It takes two and a half weeks to remove the last remains of the endlessly growing cactus from the rubbish bin, a further three days to restore order in the affected shelves. The ice sculpture is filed as missing, along with three more items and a further thirty-two that have been damaged. As the cactus has consumed at least one of the missing objects completely, no further investigation is launched.

A month later, someone far enough up the command chain to be aware of the sculpture’s significance sounds the alarm.

* * *

23.

Tsuna stares at the huge cardboard box placed in the middle of the visibly abandoned warehouse, as per instructions, no questions asked, a delivery note stuck to its front.

"I can’t believe that worked," he says very empathetically. Soon followed by— "So, _so_ many regrets."

What the hell is he supposed to do with a shock-frosted supervillain?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that happened. I'm pretty sure some of you saw parts of this chapter coming, but hopefully you enjoyed the read! Please let me know what you think in a comment if you have the time - and a belated merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate it & a wonderful start into into the week!
> 
> [Btw just curious: Did anyone catch the implication regarding Nana?]


	4. Breaking News: Mythical Fire That Spurts From Forehead At Suspiciously Convenient Times Makes For Okay-ish Ice Breaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which cooperation between superheroes and supervillains is _just not done_. It’s a good thing that Tsuna has never met an unwritten super rule he hasn’t tripped over, broken into tiny pieces and proceeded cut himself on the shards by accident.

24.

At six, all children receive The Talk. They learn what supers are and how they differ from civilians. They learn that every super takes a test to be placed on the alignment scale that differentiates between superheroes and supervillains and how there is no other reliable way to tell either apart from the other.

The tests are administered by the Trinisette Institution, their instructors tell them. A powerful, global association that operates independent of all governments and is firmly neutral in all matters, be they those of superheroes, those of supervillains or those of civilians. Though many countries have tried to replicate those very tests based on the memories of the supers who have taken it, all attempts so far have always failed. Too much about the procedure remains unknown and the man who runs the entire association might as well be an alien for how untouchable he is. Nothing that the Trinisette Institution doesn’t want to share is shared and all results remain confidential unless in very specific, very narrow exceptions.

[There are ways around the confidentiality of course, for the super in question is free to share his own results with as many people as they desire and few children are yet capable of complete secrecy. Some countries raise their people to believe in sharing their alignments openly rather than keeping it to themselves — in some societies that works out for the better, in others it has even sparked civil wars.]

In a child-friendly version of a speech the children will receive again in far more detail at ages twelve and sixteen, they are reminded yet again that it is not morals or personalities or gifts or behavior that categorically differ between heroes and villains. That there are 'bad' heroes too, just like there are villains that never once get into conflict with the law and live their lives peacefully without a single doomsday machine at hand. The specific place on the alignment scale can change as a person grows and develops, but they always remain in the same core category, from two year old to ninety-seven year old.

Alignments are predetermined and cannot be changed. They are also very private and no one is to look at another person’s alignment test without explicit, legal permission or else they _will_ go straight to jail.

What the children don’t learn yet is that 90 percent of all supers place between 10 and 90 on the alignment scale, with 0 being the highest supervillain and 100 being the highest superhero place one can achieve. [A good 50 percent of all supers place between 55 and 45 points on the scale, _just so_ missing one side for the other. 97.5 per cent of all supers place between 5 and 95 percent — roughly 50 percent on the villain and 50 percent on the hero side.] That will come when they are older and have a better understanding of numbers, frequencies and probability theory.

As such all children learn what the alignments mean and all children learn what isn’t defined by a person’s alignment — that it doesn’t influence their emotions like some early studies claimed, that it doesn’t affect their behavior or morals directly — but there’s one thing that they aren’t told. Thus, inevitably, in every year and every class, there is one clever, impatient child that eventually asks: "What’s the difference between superheroes and supervillains?"

And Tsuna’s class, who has a very capable, very honest teacher, receives a small, thoughtful smile in answer and a very simple: "I’m afraid I don’t know Kyoko-chan. But when you’re older and you figure it out, please don’t hesitate to tell me."

[Like most children, Tsuna isn’t satisfied with the answer. Like most children, he makes up his own.]

* * *

25.

For a long moment, Tsuna simply stands in front of the Vongola prisoner-slash-sculpture he has technically stolen from his very influential employers and wrings his hands. There may or may not have been some hyperventilation involved as well, but Tsuna admits nothing. He doesn’t want to get dragged back into an endless circle of increasingly desperate _What am I going to do_ ’s, distressed keening and choked sobs included.

It’s taken Tsuna long enough to calm down the first time — though it’s less 'calmed down' and more 'too exhausted to continue'. He still feels shaky down to his core, unsettled on a level so deep he just knows that one wrong move, one push at the right pressure point will have him crack open like his mother’s favorite vase did when he stumbled against the dresser and knocked it over.

All panic aside, the package can’t stay here. Tsuna doesn’t know where he’s supposed to store a huge ice sculpture with a warm core of imprisoned supervillain, but it can’t remain here. The discretion of Vongola Inc.’s postal service is legendary, but the Ninth will most assuredly request all shipment information the moment he realizes that the sculpture is missing.

Tsuna would bring it home with him, but his apartment is tiny, on the fourth floor and the elevator is broken. His childhood home would be another option — Kami knows his mother wouldn’t find anything odd about an ice sculpture as large as Tsuna himself, would probably praise him for rediscovering his artistic talent [of which Tsuna has none], and Chikusa might raise his eyebrows, but he’s only there once a month and even if he’s suspicious, Tsuna doubts he would figure out the truth — but while Iemitsu can generally be dependent upon to never, ever visit his wife if at all avoidable, he hasn’t been home in over five years. Sooner or later, they are due another visit. Tsuna can’t risk it.

He also can’t risk _losing_ the sculpture. Forget Vongola, Tsuna never wants to find out what the Varia will do if he manages to accidentally leave their boss in the hands of some self-indulging billionaire who builds his own ice palace on the North pole and is on the look-out for an impressive looking gargoyle or something equally ridiculous.

Tsuna exhales a drawn out breath. _No panicking_ , he reminds himself sternly. It does absolutely nothing to stop the rising tide of _shitshitshitshitshit_ inside his mind, but it was worth a try. Tsuna doesn’t have any secure hide-aways, never mind secret ones. He wouldn’t know where to get one either. But he needs one and he needs it _today_. Which means—

Which means he needs someone used to playing hide and seek with Vongola. Someone used to be on the run and to not be found. Someone with his fingers stuck in just enough pies to stay ahead of the hunting squads and keep an eye on local supervillain movements at the same time.

Luckily Tsuna knows quite a few people who fit that category. Unluckily Tsuna needs that someone to not kill him on sight. Even more he needs someone willing to do him a favor.

This. This is gonna be a problem.

Tsuna sinks down onto the dirty floor and crosses his legs, places his chin on his folded hands while staring a bit helplessly and a lot resigned at the unopened package in front of him. It looks larger than life from down here. Looms over him and casts a long shadow, that sends a shudder down his spine. Still. Tsuna refuses to give up. He’s made it this far, it would just be silly to stop now.

There has to be someone with the right connections who won’t—

Oh.

There just might be. [ ~~He may not kill me, but he can’t be trusted.~~ ] Maybe. If Tsuna pitches it right and keeps everything vague enough. He’s not a good liar, but in this at least he can’t be fully honest either. Because the last thing Tsuna wants to do is drag even more people into this mess. Innocent people that Vongola will kill in retaliation without a moment’s hesitation.

So, after going over his other options one last time and coming up empty, Tsuna finally gives in and pulls his phone out of his pocket. His private phone. "I’m gonna regret this," he says quietly. The words echo in the large, abandoned hall around him.

If he keeps saying these words as often as he’s done lately, soon they’ll lose all meaning. It makes it all the more tragic that Tsuna truly means them every time he says them. But, well. What’s one more regret in the grand mess his life has turned into lately?

Tsuna presses number four on his speed dial. It rings three times before someone picks up.

"What’s wrong?" No greeting, but neither of them is the type. Chikusa hates wasting time with babbling and Tsuna will ramble on and on once you get him started to avoid getting to the point.

"I need your help, Chikusa." Tsuna closes his eyes. It feels _wrong_ to do this. Tsuna has never asked Chikusa for a favor before [has never believed it would be granted] and the fact that he’s resorting to it now, that he has no other choice but to hope and pray sits wrong with him. Makes the small and terribly knotted up ball of heat that pulses underneath his sternum in time with his heart beat twist restlessly.

On the other and of the line, Tsuna picks up the sharp in-draw of Chikusa’s breath. A moment of silence passes — _Please don’t hang up, please don’t hang up, please don’t hang up_ — before Chikusa clears his throat.

"What do you need?"

No questions. No bargaining. No refusal.

Tsuna gapes at his phone for a solid minute before the worried "Tsu?!" pulls his attention back to the present. [Really? Just like that?]

"A secure location that neither Vongola’s best nor any renown supervillain can find. Not even-" Tsuna hesitates. He’s asking for a lot already. To do this, to actually say out loud the name of the man he’s always known in his heart owns Chikusa’s soul is another matter. But. [ ~~He can’t risk losing Xanxus, can’t risk the Varia being leashed to someone else, someone even worse.~~ ] "Not even Rokudou."

A long moment of silence passes. Tsuna has just convinced himself that Chikusa will hang up on him and finally break all ties when— "Until when do you need it?"

Tsuna chances a glance at the clock on his phone. It’s already eleven thirty. At eight in the evening, he’ll be expected back at the HQ and he can’t go missing now. Not when the entire organization will be in an upheaval over the loss of one of their most valuable hostages. "As soon as possible. In six hours at the latest."

"Consider it done."

Tsuna is so stunned to hear those words, hear Chikusa sound so sure of himself, like he doesn’t have the slightest doubt that he’ll manage it that he almost misses the next question.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked if there’s anything else you need."

"No-" Tsuna pauses. "Actually, there is one more thing." This is stupid. He just can’t let it rest, can he? Chikusa is already willing to do so much more than Tsuna expected, he can’t possibly ask for more. But. He needs more, is the thing. And. [ ~~He owes me.~~ ]

"I need a current address where I can reliably find the Varia," Tsuna blurts out before his mind has finished bringing out all his arguments on why this is such a bad idea. This isn’t just some hideaway. This is an active Vongola Inc. operative demanding information on a supervillain assassination squad. That’s— Even supervillains have a code, one they hold each other to, and Tsuna is asking Chikusa to break it. To betray his own kind for him. Never mind that Tsuna won’t use the information against them, Chikusa can’t _know_ that and Tsuna is asking anyway.

The breathing on the other line remains even though.

"I see," Chikusa says eventually. Tsuna seriously doubts that. But it’s not a 'No'. "Where do you want to meet?"

After a short moment of contemplation, Tsuna rattles off his current address.

"I’ll be there in five hours."

The second the call disconnects, Tsuna slumps to the ground as though he’s a puppet and all his strings have been cut. All he really wants to do is lie flat down on the dusty floor and sleep until Chikusa arrives to either help him or kill him and get rid of the body. But first Tsuna needs to buy a trolley.

* * *

26.

Tsuna is four years old when Iemitsu signs him up for his first alignment test. He is four and trips over his own feet all the time and he doesn’t understand the numbers on the paper or why he shouldn’t share them with anyone who asks. The results mean nothing to him, except that he can go back home, where the people don’t make his head ring all the time with ~~not what they appear to be, more, strange, beyond us~~.

Sawada Tsunayoshi scores 100 points on a scale whose end point is not meant to be reached.

Iemitsu cries tears of joyful pride, while Nana happily chatters on about her little superhero genius to anyone willing to listen.

The very next day, Iemitsu takes his wonderful son, his perfect heir with him to Vongola Inc. for the first time.

* * *

27.

Five hours later, Chikusa strolls into the abandoned warehouse. Tsuna, who’s been nodding off for the past two hours from where he’s leaning against an old trolley he found behind a warehouse a couple streets over that he swears he’ll return as soon as he’s transported Xanxus to a more secure location, jerks awake and hastily climbs to his feet.

"Chikusa! Thank you for coming." Tsuna means those words more than he thought he could. That doesn’t stop him from flushing when Chikusa eyes the dirt on his pants with an unreadable expression.

Chikusa tilts his head in acknowledgement and hands over a couple of papers. "The deed to a ground-floor apartment. No one lives above or below, the house has been uninhabited for years. Nothing luxurious, but it has electricity and running water. The neighborhood is shady enough that no one asks questions, but not so much that you need to expect a knife to the back. It’s fairly out of the way from your own home, but I’m sure you’ll find a way. It’s also warded against tracing and tracking methods, both the technical kind and mental gifts."

Tsuna stares down at the papers with unshed tears in his eyes. "This is _perfect_." There are no other words he can say, for all that he dearly wishes there were. Chikusa deserves more because this, this is perfect.

The man in question shrugs. "It’s the best I could do in such a short time. Should hold up to Vongola’s hounds though, for a while at least. Although if they search you specifically, there could be problems," Chikusa warns. "They’ll have your blood and DNA on file. There are few if any ways to protect from a tracker who’s scented your blood and none of them come cheap."

"That’s fine." Tsuna isn’t so sure of that, actually, but Xanxus is _frozen in ice_. If anyone can evade the senses of a trained and gifted tracker, it should be him in his current form.

Chikusa stares at him for a moment longer. Then he slowly pulls a small slip of paper out of his pocket and hands it over. "The address you asked for. Burn it the moment you’ve memorized it."

Tsuna swallows heavily, but his throat still feels two sizes too small. "Chikusa." He sounds way too choked up. " _Thank you_."

Chikusa stares back, his eyes as blank as they’ve always been. "We’re even now, Tsu. Anything else you want and you better be willing to offer something in return."

_Even? For what?_

Then he turns while Tsuna is still mouthing the word 'even' in surprised confusion and walks away. At the entrance he pauses, looks over his shoulder for a moment. His expression is the same flat one he always wears, but to Tsuna’s practiced eyes he looks almost— tired. [ ~~Sad.~~ ]

"You used to call me Kusa-kun," he says, a simple observation, and then he’s gone.

Tsuna continues to stare at the spot where Chikusa just stood until long after he is already gone. Because he’s right, isn’t he? He’s always been Kusa-kun, even back when they’d only just met and Tsuna was so scared he couldn’t say the name without stuttering. And. Tsuna doesn’t know when that changed. Doesn’t know why he stopped.

[ ~~How do you forgive a transgression you don’t remember?~~ ]

The sharp pain behind his temples that has been steadily decreasing over the past week flares up again, so suddenly it startles Tsuna into dropping his papers.

Right. The papers. _Xanxus_. With that, Tsuna pushes his confusion aside. There’s no time to deal with this now, not when he might well be one false move away from Vongola’s Top Wanted list. Tsuna can’t handle one world-changing crisis at a time, never mind several. [Besides it’s not like Chikusa seemed to be looking for an answer.]

* * *

28.

Tsuna makes it back to work on time. He’s running on two and a half hours of sleep, one banana he hastily swallowed on the way to the HQ and one possibly broken toe from when he stubbed it on more than 100 kilogram of solid, un-melting ice, but he hobbles his way into the office on time. Barely.

Hana glares. "Emergency meeting in 5 minutes."

Tsuna sobs, but manages to disguise it as a cough. It’s been nerve-wracking enough to walk through security as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened — as though he isn’t hiding a the Varia boss in a secret apartment he officially doesn’t own. When Ren asked him to please hold, Tsuna was ready to feel handcuffs on his wrists and be taken straight to Interrogation, but all the man did was ask if Tsuna shouldn’t maybe take a day off.

Tsuna _did_ cry then, embarrassing himself and Ren in equal measures. The poor guy had patted him on the back and handed him a freshly-baked brownie out of literally nowhere — some gifts are so weird and when even Tsuna notices that, it’s a sign that the world has gone off the deep end for real — which is now slightly squished but still perfectly edible and smells delicious.

The sugar rush is probably the only reason Tsuna makes it into the briefing room without passing out.

He’d expected another quiet nightshift. Well, technically Tsuna had expected to be arrested, but failing that a perfectly ordinary nightshift should have been on the agenda. An emergency meeting is the exact opposite of a perfectly ordinary shift where no one asks him why he fell asleep in front of his computer. Not an — oh Kami, what if the emergency is Xanxus’ disappearance?! What if his own squad is being sent out to- to capture and or kill Tsuna? What if—

Mochida slams the door shut behind himself, causing Tsuna to flinch. His squad leader’s scowl promises nothing good for anyone. [They know. They figured it out and they know and now they’re just playing games with me. They know—]

"I hope none of you had plans tonight because I did and if I have to suffer through the absolute idiocy of a pretentious supervillain who named himself 'Marshmallow Muffin' I _will_ take all of you down with me, capisce?" is Mochida’s opening statement.

It takes Tsuna several moments longer than usual to parse through those words — partly because his heart still feels like it’s going to squeeze itself through his rib-cage and make a run for it, partly because he’s _so tired_ — but when he does he sags in his seat in an odd mixture of relief and resignation.

Of course tonight of all nights there’s a supervillain running amok. A new player, going by the unfamiliar name and description — white hair, an odd, purple marking on his cheek and a penchant for speaking in baby-talk, _wonderful_ , Hana will be unbearable afterwards — which is likely why they’re being called in and not one of the more experienced squads.

No one on the squad is happy about it, not at half past eight on a Friday night. And certainly not Tsuna who has a bad feeling about this entire situation that intensifies when Mochida pins him with a dark look. "That goes for you too, Sawada. This guy is a complete unknown, so it’s all hands on deck. Try not to get yourself killed and, failing that, don’t take any of us down with you."

And with that they’re moving out.

Tsuna, who under usual circumstances would be a nervous wreck, is practically catatonic. That or he’s passed out without closing his eyes, either is possible. Hana shakes him awake once they arrive at the park Marshmallow Muffin has apparently taken over with — yes, those are odd humanoid-shaped marshmallow minions, what the actual fuck — and when that fails to gather a reaction beyond a few blinks, slaps him. Lightly.

"Pull yourself together, Sawada!" she hisses. "This is not the time to freak out! You’re gonna get killed if you don’t get a grip!"

As per usual, Hana’s version of comfort fails at bolstering Tsuna’s spirit. That’s alright though, his time is up anyway. And hey, if he dies today in this weird villain attack, at least the famed Vongola interrogation specialists won’t get their hands on him, right?

Now that Tsuna thinks about that, he shouldn’t even try to make it back from this battle. The mere thought of another practical lesson in torture-masquerading-as-interrogation will give him nightmares for weeks to come.

Disregarding his internal freak-out, Mochida shows a brand-new med kit into Tsuna’s arms and pushes him out of the van. "Everyone, spread out! Secure the perimeter first and for fuck’s sake, get those useless civilians out of the way!"

While the whole squad sets out to do their jobs, Tsuna stumbles more or less blindly through the chaotic battlefield that used to be a children’s park. There’s those marshmallow figures everywhere. Up close they look unsettlingly like small children — or small snowman children at least. They are also made out of marshmallow, as Tsuna figures out when one of the things literally jumps him, wraps its tiny body around Tsuna’s face and he gets a mouth full of marshmallow.

It doesn’t taste bad, actually. Breathing proves somewhat difficult though.

It’s more reflex than conscious battle tactic that has Tsuna shove his taser into the thing. That could’ve ended badly, it belatedly occurs him, but instead of burning his entire face of, the marshmallow minion melts into a soothingly warm s’more that slowly slides down Tsuna’s front. Which is disgustingly sticky, but at least his airways are free once more. It’s the little things in life.

 _Man, I need sleep_.

At this point, Tsuna thinks this is kinda how an out-of-body experience must feel like. His thoughts are running a mile a minute, but his body is moving sluggishly, just stumbling along the uneven ground and Tsuna just— watches it with a surprising amount of apathy. He doesn’t have the energy to be afraid anymore.

He doesn’t have the energy to do anything _at all_. Not even the knowledge that he’ll end up drowning in marshmallow goo is enough to raise more than a faint note of interest. Tasing that minion has taken the last of Tsuna’s energy — or maybe it’s the lack of oxygen that has tipped the edge, but Tsuna is done.

Marshmallow Muffin is not.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here? A little hero who doesn’t watch his back?"

 _Oh_ , Tsuna thinks absently. There’s a hand wrapped around his throat. Attached to that hand is a wildly grinning face with glowing orange eyes. Tsuna pouts at them. He’s only just gotten his air back.

"Any last words, little hero?" Marshmallow Muffin asks with a very friendly smile that makes his teeth glitter in the dark. Or maybe that’s the oxygen deprivation. Tsuna is pretty sure human teeth don’t usually glow in the dark or do they?

"S-Stuffy," Tsuna manages before his aching throat fails him.

Marshmallow Muffin raises an eyebrow. Eases his grip a little. "Come again?" This time his teeth don’t just glow, they _sparkle_. It’s weird. A part of Tsuna wants to shudder and shrivel away unseen in the shadows. Another part wants to reach out and pet the blooming colors before they fade away again. [ ~~"Look!" that part purrs. "Look, it’s so pretty. Look, we fit!"~~ ]

"The marshmallows taste a bit stuffy," Tsuna explains reasonably once he’s caught his breath again. "Like they’ve been packed up in plastic for too long. You might want to work on that."

Marshmallow Muffin stares in complete silence for a very long, very awkward moment. Then he _giggles_. It would sound adorable, were it not for the manic glint in the supervillain’s eyes.

"My, my, where have those Vongola brutes been hiding you, little sugarplum?"

"Definitely not in the rubbish bin," Tsuna answers honestly.

It’s about then that the rest of his squad finds him and everything goes downhill. That is to say Tsuna goes downhill. Mostly because when Marshmallow Muffin lets go of his throat to turn around and face his squad members — making no move to use Tsuna as a meat shield [ ~~almost as though he knows he won’t need the edge~~ ] — that Tsuna’s brain catches up with his body and remembers they’re done for the day.

Tsuna’s legs give out and because he’s apparently standing on the side of a steep hill, when Tsuna crumbles to the ground unconscious, he rolls down the hill and doesn’t stop until he crashes into a wall of marshmallows in the process of burying Mochida alive, incidentally knocking several of them away and quite possibly saving his team leader’s life.

Not that Tsuna is aware of any of that. He’s out cold.

* * *

29.

Tsuna wakes up a good eighteen hours later and promptly screams at the top of his lungs. He’s in Vongola Inc.’s private hospital, in the same room any member of his squad usually occupies when injured on the field and he feels more rested than he has in weeks. Until Tsuna opens his eyes and comes face to very close with with familiar glowing orange eyes.

"Huh." Marshmallow Muffin — who makes for a suspiciously convincing nondescript nurse, if the outfit is anything to go by — looks in equal parts delighted and bemused. "You really didn’t know I was here."

Tsuna doesn’t answer. He’s plenty occupied pressing a hand against his poor heart and trying to crawl backwards into his mattress. The glee that is slowly spreading over Marshmallow Muffin’s face does nothing to help him calm down.

"This," Marshmallow Muffin says with a relish that speaks of terrible things to come, "is gonna be _so. much._ fun."

By the time security comes running, which in their defense happens within two minutes, the man who may or may not have infiltrated the Vongola HQ grounds on a freaking whim is long gone. Tsuna sobs into his pillow [ _why, why does he attract all these weird, unreasonably powerful, creepy stalkers, why can’t there be supervillains out there who have better things to do with their lives than follow him and watch him sleep_ ] until the concerned guards back off and stop asking questions whose answers they wouldn’t believe him anyway and that’s that.

Later that day, Tsuna learns that he’s thankfully not the only who has passed out during the fight. Apparently, when reinforcements arrived Marshmallow Muffin did _something_ — Tsuna still isn’t clear on what, exactly, since Haru has been supremely unhelpful in that regard, constantly rambling on about how she could feel the villain’s killing intent rumble through the air like slowly approaching thunder she could feel deep within her bones — that caused the squad members who’d still been standing to lose consciousness immediately.

Hana in particular is not happy. She’s been throwing darts at a print-out picture of their as of yet unidentified supervillain with terrifying accuracy. An unidentified supervillain who’d immediately been bumped up the ranks since it had become very clear that Tsuna’s entire squad and not just him had been in way over their head.

Marshmallow Muffin might be new, but he is clearly powerful. And experienced in using that power to his advantage. As luck will have it, that makes him someone else’s problem. Tsuna for one is perfectly fine with that. If he ever runs into the creepy man again, it will be too soon.

* * *

30.

After a fair bit of deliberating, Tsuna has unpacked the cardboard box containing Xanxus’ ice prison inside his new, hopefully secure apartment. Besides if he were found, it’s not like he can go on the run with a huge block of ice. He wouldn’t make it out onto the street in that case.

Anyway.

Now that he’s staring at the more or less secured sculpture — the one he still can’t believe no one has reported missing yet, it’s been two days — with a loss at what to do next.

In theory, Tsuna could get in touch with the Varia. That might be a smart plan, if it wasn’t the Varia. Who are neither known for their rationality, nor their negotiation or listening skills. They’re as likely to kill Tsuna as Vongola, perhaps even more so. And there’s also the fact that, well, what’s he supposed to tell them? 'Listen, I know it sounds crazy, but your boss is in this huge block of ice and I have no idea how to get him out but maybe you’ll manage' doesn’t seem like it’d lead to him leaving with all his limbs attached. If he leaves at all.

What Tsuna needs is proof that the sculpture contains Xanxus. Proof and, if at all possible, a solution to his current predicament. If only that were easy.

Tsuna steps closer until he’s standing right in front of the sculpture. This close, he should feel the cold emitting from the ice, but this isn’t normal ice and Tsuna doesn’t feel anything. Slowly he raises his hand and reaches out. Thoughts of frostbite and tongues stuck to metal spring to mind, but Tsuna forces himself to ignore them and lightly brushes one finger over the not-ice.

_Damn, that’s cold!_

He jerks his hand away on instinct, but when he rubs the tips of his fingers against each other, they don’t feel cold or numb. Tsuna bites his lip in thought.

 _This is a bad idea_.

The knowledge doesn’t stop him from pressing his palm against the ice. It’s cold, a shock of freezing that rushes through his nervous system, almost has him fall over, but after the initial surprise it — it doesn’t fade, but it doesn’t get stronger either. And when Tsuna pulls his hand away again, it goes easily, no pain, no cold, no sticking to the ice.

 _Okay then_.

With more confidence, Tsuna holds both palms against the ice and just waits. [It’s not like he has a better idea, alright?]

After a couple of nerve-wracking minutes in which nothing of note happens, Tsuna pulls them back. There’s no damage in his hands that he can see, but no dent in the ice either. Which is disappointing. How is he supposed to crack ice that doesn’t react to temperatures, that may not be ice at all, for all that it’s freezing cold to the touch?

Tsuna curls his fingers, only to still. He lifts his hands and no, that’s not his imagination acting up. His fingers— are wet.

* * *

31.

It’s common knowledge that supers were first created during the second world war in an attempt to create the perfect — or at least superior — army. While the dates the experiments first started have been _adjusted_ [for humans have played with powers beyond their understanding since long before war gave them an excuse to push for more, faster, now] this is mostly true. Also well known is the fact that the first supers were ordinary humans that underwent intensive, invasive experiments — sometimes against their will — that changed their physiology down to their very DNA. This, too, is no straight-up lie, but nor is it a simple truth. The very first supers were as human before the experiments as they were after.

They were humans with an extraordinary talent to reshape the very molecules surrounding them through sheer force of will. The goal of the experiments was first and foremost to enhance that ability and though in many ways the end-result surpassed all expectations, in this single matter, they did not. For while some supers developed an individual ability beyond the imagination of the scientists at the time, those so-called gifts varied and proved unreliable, almost impossible to control or predict or implant.

Why and how these gifts occurred has been the subject of continuous research, experimentation and discussion ever since, but if there is one thing the scientific community could agree on, if it were in fact aware of the full truth, it would be this: the fabled talent of the first supers has been lost in the process or at the very least has mutated beyond recognition.

But as history has shown in the past and will show again in the future, even the entire scientific community can be wrong.

* * *

32.

The good news is: Tsuna’s touch appears to be capable of melting the ice holding Xanxus imprisoned.

The bad news is: The process is slow, as in glacial, and impractical besides. Tsuna spends an entire two hours hugging the sculpture half-naked — mentally apologizing to Xanxus all the while in between praying that if Vongola does track him down they please do not do so _right now_ — and there’s barely a visible dent where his arms and upper body were.

This is gonna take weeks, months, maybe even years. Besides say Tsuna manages to unfreeze a part of Xanxus, can the man even survive while the majority of his body is still stuck in the ice? What if Tsuna kills him on accident? ~~What if there is no safe way to remove the ice? What if that’s precisely the point of the technique?~~

 _No_ , Tsuna thinks and places his palms back on the ice with renewed determination because something about the ninth CEO of Vongola causes the hair on the back of his neck to stand up. [ ~~"Whatever are you doing down here, my boy?" the old man asks mildly. Touchan laughs but he doesn’t mean it. Tsuna doesn’t understand why he laughs at all. "Just a little test, Nono, nothing to worry about. Tsuna and I are just playing a fun game, aren’t we, Tsu-kun?"~~ ]

_Every curse has a counter. Every gift can be combatted. There is no such thing as an unbreakable chain._

Tsuna narrows his eyes. Thinks of the way Hana widened her stance when the supervillain a few months back took her best friend hostage and offered her a lose-lose choice and Hana screamed "I refuse to play this stupid game!" at the top of her lungs before her best friend knifed the villain in the back. Thinks of that one supervillain that manipulated gravity and brought every single fighter within a mile-radius to his knees and how Hibari-senpai gritted his teeth, grabbed his tonfas and crawled all the way over the battlefield to bite the upstart to death. Thinks of Chikusa, broken and bleeding and still fighting with the desperation of a cornered animal, shielding the motionless body of a frail-looking boy with his own.

For you have to understand, Tsuna is weak and dame and shy and has always had a hard time making friends. Tsuna cries over his torn books and hands over his lunches without protest and shares his home with anyone who needs it and never stands up for himself because no one has ever taught Tsuna that he is worth defending, worth fighting for.

And because Tsuna is so careless with himself, with his belongings, with his very home, most people do not realize this, are never confronted with the fact: Tsuna is protective of those he considers his own.

~~[There’s a boy with burning red eyes glaring down at him and Tsuna wants to cry, but he also wants to hug the boy’s legs and never let go because Touchan forgot him again and it’s scary down here and he’s so _alone_.~~

~~"The fuck are you doing, trash?" the boy snaps when Tsuna gives in and does both. But he doesn’t leave Tsuna alone in the scary basement and that’s all that matters.]~~

_You can’t put people into cages_ , Tsuna thinks with a quiet determination, one that burns long and patient, a conviction he’s never shared, never hidden, never needed to. No one has ever asked his opinion, now, have they?

**_I won’t let you._ **

The low-burning warmth that pulses underneath Tsuna’s sternum _ignites_. For the first time that Tsuna can recall, he draws on that warmth, pulls it out instead of focusing it inwards. Flames spark between his fingers, dance along his arms and up his hair — except they are no real flames anymore than the ice trapping Xanxus is real ice — and in the ice’s reflection Tsuna sees a distorted picture of himself, fire crowning his forehead and lighting up his eyes with an eery orange glow.

[Orange like Marshmallow Muffin’s own eyes. Those have been bothering him from the start, haven’t they? ~~Orange, the color of heroes.~~ ]

With an eardrum-shattering crack, the ice breaks.

* * *

33.

Did you know? There are rumors, folktales, myths: That in the presence of a true hero, one feels loved and cared for and protected, a shelter of warmth against all that is dark and cruel in the world, for their very being soothes wounds even time cannot heal, their eyes and ears cannot be fooled by lies and trickery, their heart is open for all those who seek shelter. That a true villain evokes a terror so deep, a despair so all-shattering that men and women and children alike go mad from it, that they scream until their throats bleed and tear off their own skin in desperation, that they fall dead to the ground without ever being touched.

[Did you know? There is an ounce of truth in every myth. ~~What would you say if I told you that both those tales were sparked by the same person?~~ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for all mistakes, once I have a free minute, I'll go back and polish this chapter up. For now I'm just happy how quickly I got it done and I hope you enjoy the update as well!  
> I'm really trying with the whole world-building and if there are any inconsistencies [there definitely are] feel free to let me know, just know that a lot of this world I make up as I go along, so it might not always fit. The main focus is definitely Tsuna's entanglement with the villains, the rest is just extra stuff that will hopefully help you understand the characters' backstories better. Though I'm not holding my breath regarding that. Anyway, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter and I hope you had a great Monday!
> 
> Fun fact: If anyone other than Tsuna had touched that ice, they would've either passed out, gone into a coma or died instantly, depending on the length of contact and their own resilience.  
> [Also I almost titled this chapter "Local Cinnamon Roll Finds Its Resolve" but that didn't quite fit. Tsuna has always had his resolve here (it was never locked away), he's just rarely had a reason to show it.]


	5. Pro Tip: You Can’t Be Accused Of Fraternization With The Enemy If You Don’t Let Your Mother Adopt Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna tries to take care of Xanxus. It goes as well as one would expect it to.

34.

It is a well-known fact that bears constant repeating: Supers are the result of successful human experimentation.

Would you care to guess how many _failed_ experiments it took to get there?

[ ~~Do you really believe those experiments, once proven successful, were ever stopped?~~ ]

* * *

35.

Tsuna hasn’t thought about exactly how aware Xanxus has been of his surroundings while locked in the ice. This isn’t a coincidence, he has consciously chosen not to contemplate it. [There’s no good answer to that question and Tsuna really doesn’t want to freak himself out even more while he’s pushing the ice sculpture around, wondering if there are eyes watching him from within, _staring back_.]

He sort of gets his answer when the ice shatters and he meets wide, red eyes that are so, so painfully aware before the man within crumbles as much as the ice containing him did. Tsuna doesn’t manage to catch him and even if he had, he’d have probably only succeeded in being dragged down with him. Xanxus might have been on ice for eight years, might now be younger than Tsuna, physically speaking, but he’s broader and taller and definitely _not_ light.

Somehow he manages to drag the man into bed and cover him in a blanket without Xanxus twitching even once. He’s definitely out cold — and not in the literal way he was before.

After a very long moment of deliberation, Tsuna pulls a second and third blanket out of the otherwise empty wardrobe and covers Xanxus in them as well. Then proceeds to check if Xanxus is still breathing, when the man doesn’t react to the added weight in any way.

_Alright, then. Still breathing, deep asleep, will hopefully wake up at some point in the next forty eight hours. Now what?_

Tsuna isn’t a doctor and couldn’t afford to bring one here even if he knew one he trusted. He’ll just have to hope that Xanxus will recover, now that the ice has been broken. Other than that, there really isn’t much he can do for the man. Tsuna glances around the small, barely furnished apartment, feeling weirdly helpless.

After a quick survey of the kitchen and another check on a still breathing Xanxus, Tsuna does the only thing left to do: He goes grocery shopping.

* * *

36.

It’s a sad day when Tsuna isn’t surprised by the supervillain staring back at him from _inside_ the fridge in his squad’s breakroom.

Tsuna would’ve screamed, but he’s still dividing his free time between much needed sleep and checking in on Xanxus — who still hasn’t woken up for longer than it takes to swallow the broth Tsuna feeds him — and thus can’t be bothered to muster up the energy. Besides, tragic as it is, this isn’t the weirdest place he’s found Marshmallow Muffin in.

[There’d been an incident involving the plush unicorn Haru has brought with her because their office is apparently 'too dreary for words’ that Tsuna staunchly refuses to remember.]

"Tsu-chan!" Marshmallow Muffin beams. "You’re just on time!"

"Just— _why_?" is all Tsuna manages once he recalls how words work. Gestures towards the coffee and sweets Marshmallow Muffin has spread out around him like some a welcoming buffet.

[He doesn’t bother pointing out that the buffet shouldn’t fit inside the fridge, certainly not together with Marshmallow Muffin. Tsuna has already learned that the laws of reality only apply to this particular supervillain when they amuse him and not a second longer.]

"I thought we could share a cup of tea!" Marshmallow Muffin’s teeth sparkle with the force of his enthusiasm. "That’s what BFFs do, right?"

"BFFs?" Tsuna asks faintly.

"Ah, yes. The abbreviations today’s urban youth seems so fond of can get confusing." Marshmallow Muffin nods sympathetically as though he genuinely thinks that’s Tsuna’s problem. "BFF stands for 'best friends forever'. Or 'big fat fuck’ if urbandictionary.com is to be believed, but I prefer the first option."

"We’re not _friends_!" Tsuna bursts out incredulously.

"Of course not," Marshmallow Muffin agrees. "We’re _best_ friends. Or will be. Same difference really."

"You’re a wanted supervillain!" Tsuna refuses to be embarrassed by the high note his voice reaches at the last word. "I’m supposed to arrest you!"

"Well, I suggested archenemies, but you vetoed that." Marshmallow Muffin pouts. Visibly. "As well as rivals, lovers and blood brothers, even though I totally could’ve gotten your mother to sign the paperwork. You’re not giving me much to work with here, Tsu-cha, so BFFs it is." A shrug, before Marshmallow Muffin perks up again. "Besides I checked and the spot isn’t occupied yet and I fulfill all the necessary criteria. I speak with you on a daily basis—"

"Because you _stalk_ me!" Tsuna definitely doesn’t whine.

"— I split the check with you when we go out for lunch—"

"Kidnapping! It’s called kidnapping!"

"— I worry about your health, really, all this excitement of the job can’t be good for your blood-pressure, Tsu-chan, you should consider retiring. There’s a world of other jobs far better suited to your talents that I can think of at the top of my had—"

" _You’re_ bad for my health," Tsuna mutters darkly and is summarily ignored.

"— I listen to your advise, respect your opinions even when they don’t align with my own and take your feelings into consideration—"

"Asking me to fill out a survey to rate my kidnapping experience doesn’t count as taking my feelings into consideration!" Really, Tsuna despairs of this world.

"— and you even feel comfortable enough around me to shout and snap! Isn’t this just wonderful? You’re expressing yourself Tsu-chan, I couldn’t be more proud!" Marshmallow Muffin claps his hands happily. "I’m telling you, Tsu-chan, my self-help guide on how to navigate and build healthy relationships says all of those are important building blocks of a good friendship. Now, do you prefer apple cinnamon tea, lemon ginger or a hot chocolate with marshmallows?"

Tsuna quietly grieves for his sanity, his peace of mind and his dream of a quiet, uncomplicated life. For the past week, Marshmallow Muffin has left him little notes all over his apartment, his desk at the office and even on his lunch box with little jokes, well-wishes and congratulations for every task Tsuna completes. It’s 70 percent creepy — because Tsuna doesn’t understand how Marshmallow Muffin knows all these things [he _isn’t_ constantly watching, Tsuna is pretty sure] — and 30 percent kind-of-nice because no one has ever taken so much time to compliment Tsuna and pay attention to whether he’s feeling alright or sleeping enough.

[The ratio used to be 85 to 15. Somehow, Tsuna has the ominous feeling Marshmallow Muffin is wearing him down — and that it’s working.]

He accepts the tea with a thank you that makes Marshmallow Muffin coo and pat his head. As if to add insult to injury it tastes delicious.

* * *

37.

Tsuna is not supposed to be in the lower level of the basement. Touchan says so every time he takes Tsuna down onto the first level, to watch one of the really, really big people — some even bigger than Touchan! — sit in a chair. Touchan says it’s very important that Tsuna be good and concentrate and try to tell Touchan how he feels about those people.

Some wave back at him or smile or look really surprised when they see him. Tsuna likes those people, though he doesn’t say that anymore. Touchan always used to frown at him when he did. Some are boring, just sit there and stare at a table or the wall or a spot next to Tsuna’s head. Tsuna doesn’t feel much of anything for them, except that he thinks it would be so much more fun if Tsuna could just go into the room with them, then they could play a game together.

[There was one man who made funny faces at him when he noticed Tsuna. Tsuna likes that man. More than all the others. He hasn’t seen him again after that first time though — ~~"Let me tell you a secret, little Vongola: Every chain can be broken."~~ — and no one else makes funny faces. Buh-oring.]

But Touchan has left Tsuna alone in the room again and this person is especially boring because he’s _asleep_ in his chair. And Touchan has been gone forever and no one else comes, until finally Tsuna decides to go looking for him.

[ ~~Maybe Touchan has forgotten him again.~~ ]

But Tsuna isn’t big enough yet to reach one of the upper buttons of the elevator and so instead he lands in the lower level of the basement — something Tsuna only realizes when he steps out of the elevator, although he doesn’t know how he knows that. Tsuna has never been here before.

Still. He shouldn’t be here. Touchan says so.

Tsuna hesitates. He doesn’t know why. There’s no one around, just one endless corridor with lots and lots of closed doors. If Tsuna turns back now, Touchan will never know.

[ ~~Look closer.~~ ]

Tsuna doesn’t know why he does it. Couldn’t explain it if he wanted to, but instead of hiding back inside the elevator, where it’s safe and the air doesn’t smell funny and a bad, bad feeling doesn’t press down on Tsuna from all sides, he walks hesitantly down the hallway. Until he reaches a door that looks the same as all the others and slowly pulls it open.

There’s a long row of boxes lined up inside the room. ~~_No_~~ , Tsuna realizes when he steps inside. ~~_Not boxes. Cages._~~

Some of them are empty. But not all of them. Tsuna stops in front of the first one with a closed door he reaches and peers inside. There’s no bars, instead the entire box is made out of thick ~~unbreakable~~ glass. Inside, a little boy with one red and one blue eye peers back.

* * *

38.

Twelve days after Tsuna shatters the ice trapping Xanxus di Vongola, the infamous leader of the Varia wakes up. For real, this time, not just to swallow food without opening his eyes and the occasional mumbled nonsense.

In retrospect, Tsuna probably should’ve remained safely on the other side of the room, introduced himself and taken a wait and see approach because there was no telling what state of mind the man would be in after spending eight years trapped in the ice — and aware of every minute, as far as Tsuna can tell.

But Tsuna is constantly swinging back and forth between _so damn tired_ and _100 percent done with this shit_ these days — the latter is mostly Marshmallow Muffin’s fault, who continues to fulfill his self-appointed duties as Tsuna’s BFF with a level of enthusiasm that cannot be healthy — so he’s not exactly in his right mind when Xanxus suddenly lets out a sharp breath and snaps his eyes open.

When the man immediately tries to sit up, which goes as well as one would expect after eight years of immobility, Tsuna doesn’t think, just rushes to his side to help Xanxus into an upright position. That’s a mistake. As it turns out, touching a sensory-deprived, raging man who’s been betrayed and looked away by his own father for almost a decade turns out to be a bad idea. Who would’ve thought?

Tsuna kinda wants to hit his past self over the head, but Xanxus is doing a decent job in his place.

Clearly not everything has been lost to the ice because Xanxus does a full-body jerk, whirls around, features twisted into a furious snarl, somehow manages to get off the bed and kicks Tsuna hard enough to send him flying straight out of the window.

 _Well_ , Tsuna thinks with the practiced detachment of a Vongola Inc. operative used to being on the wrong side of Hibari-senpai’s tonfas every once in a while and equally familiar with Hana’s prized defenestration move which she had to practice on someone, _at least he’s recovering fast_.

* * *

39.

Turns out, Xanxus is not the sign of a miracle recovery, but rather the result of adrenaline, desperation and what little energy reserves he’s built up over the past twelve days of sleeping. By the time Tsuna has brushed off the shards, sent a mental thank you Chikusa’s way for having the foresight to get him a ground-level apartment and walks back inside through the door like a civilized person, Xanxus is on the ground next to his bed, only just keeping his upper body upright with both hands holding onto the bed frame. Going by the way his arms shake, he’s not gonna remain that way for long.

The glare he sends Tsuna’s way on the other hand would’ve likely melted his innards if Xanxus had any power left to put behind it.

Tsuna closes the door behind him and sits down on the floor. There’s nothing worse than having people loom over you when you’re already in a vulnerable position. He’d raise his hands, but there’s no point. Tsuna doesn’t carry any visible weapons and if he had a gift, he could wield it against Xanxus whether he has his hands free or not. So instead he crosses his legs and rests his hands on top of his knees.

"My name is Tsuna. It’s a pleasure to see you awake and recovering, Xanxus-san," Tsuna starts. "Will you allow me to explain where you are?"

The initial mindless rage is gone from Xanxus’ features, but the fury driving it hasn’t faded one bit. Still, after a tense moment of waiting, the man nods. The way his eyes wander over Tsuna indicate he’s already categorizing him, which bodes well for his mental capacity when he isn’t in blinded by fear and anger.

"We are in a secure apartment owned by me, seven miles west of the Vongola Inc. headquarters. You were brought here by me thirteen days ago and have been sleeping for the past twelve. As far as I am aware, no one else knows your current location, nor have you been declared missing from Vongola’s custody thus far — though I’m afraid that likely won’t remain so for much longer."

It’s staggering as it is that Vongola hasn’t noticed a key hostage of Xanxus’ value missing. There’s always the possibility that the upper echelons are keeping it quiet of course, perhaps in hopes of fooling the Varia a while longer, but Tsuna’s gut says no. He’s still waiting for the day they discover the sculpture gone and arrest Tsuna. Hopefully by that time Xanxus will be in a good enough condition to disappear.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" Tsuna asks next, not sure yet how to break the news to the man if he doesn’t.

The wooden bed frame under Xanxus’ hands breaks.

 _I’m gonna take that as a yes_.

"I’m unfamiliar with the technique the Ninth used to contain you," Tsuna continues quickly, determined to get all the bad news out of the way before the man’s already slipping self-control snaps. "But as far as I can tell it kept you in a stasis, essentially untouched by the passage of time. Today’s date is the 24th of April. In two weeks time, it will be the eight year anniversary of the day the Ninth froze you."

Xanxus _screams_.

* * *

40.

To say that Xanxus doesn’t take the news that he was used as a hostage against his own people well would be an understatement, but by that point he’s already spent most of his energy destroying every part of the room he can reach — which, thankfully, isn’t much.

Tsuna averts his gaze so he doesn’t have to see the raw pain, the soul-deep lashes of the betrayal in the other man’s eyes. It’s uncomfortable, the air in the room fraught with aimless tension, and Tsuna can’t help but feel like there’s something cracked, something splintered hanging in the air and he’ll have to move carefully, lest he cut himself to the bone on those shards.

He busies himself with taping the broken window shut with a cardboard cut-out and preparing a soup that Xanxus should be able to slurp through a straw. Considering how hard his muscles are trembling from the exertion of his outburst, Tsuna wouldn’t trust him with a spoon, never mind a knife.

Over his shoulder, Tsuna explains what little he’s observed concerning possible longterm consequences. There’s no visible damage on Xanxus’ body that he’s seen — not that he’s checked _everywhere_ , which he makes sure to stress to Xanxus — but he’s observed the occasional muscle spasming, the pale, almost grey-tinted skin that’s slow to regain color and noticed that Xanxus appears to run a fever. Not high enough to be of serious concern, but it hasn’t gone down despite Xanxus’ overall improvement.

"I’m not a doctor though and I’ve never seen anything like this before. But I’m pretty sure there are repercussions to such an invasive procedure."

By the time Tsuna places a half-full bowl of soup near Xanxus, it’s early evening and Xanxus has propped himself up on the mattress that is now lying on the ground thanks to his earlier destruction of the entire bed frame. It might be for the best, Tsuna doubts Xanxus’s pride would’ve allowed Tsuna to help the man onto the bed even if the alternative would’ve been sleeping on the floor.

[He doesn’t think twice before taking two sips from both bowls he’s prepared in an effort to convince Xanxus they aren’t poisoned.]

Slurping soup through his own straw — it seems mean to bring out cutlery in front of Xanxus, like a provocation — Tsuna considers the days events. So far, Xanxus hasn’t done anything too terrible, like tried to kill Tsuna, and he seems both aware of his surroundings and capable of following Tsuna’s babbling. But he hasn’t said a single word yet, hasn’t asked even one question and Tsuna—

Tsuna has no idea how to proceed. He hasn’t thought this far ahead, and if he had, he supposes he’d have assumed that Xanxus would just get up and walk out. Disappear. Clearly, that’s not a realistic option, so Tsuna needs a new plan.

"I can get in touch with your people if you want," Tsuna offers once Xanxus has finished his soup.

That gains him the man’s immediate attention. Which is really just a nice way of saying that Xanxus glares at him as though he wants to set Tsuna on fire.

"It’s not a threat?" Tsuna continues after a moment when it becomes clear that Xanxus isn’t going to reply. "It’s a genuine offer. I know how to get in touch with the Varia and I’m sure they can hide you better than me and provide you with proper medical care."

If anything, Xanxus’ glare burns even hotter. He very deliberately shakes his head once.

"Alright, you’re welcome to stay here then." Tsuna tilts his head in bemusement. He’s not sure what the problem is — a lack of trust in Tsuna? fear that this is all an illusion or a fever dream? something else entirely? — but there’s no point in driving himself crazy over it. Besides this is the first prolonged period of time in which Xanxus has remained conscious. Perhaps it’s too much to expect him to make decision already, maybe he’s simply overwhelmed.

It doesn’t matter. They can always revisit the topic in a few days, when they’ve gotten a clearer picture of the timeframe of Xanxus’ recovery. Hopefully, Vongola will remain oblivious for a little longer.

In the mean time: "The kitchen is fully stocked, there’s lots of pre-packed soup that you only have to heat up. The bathroom is through the door to your right. I’ll have to go back to work soon, but I’ll try to stop by again tomorrow morning. Oh, and if you decide to run, there’s a dark blue bag next to the door with some clothes that should fit you, dye for your hair, food and medical supplies. Please take it with you and take care of yourself."

[Tsuna doesn’t think Xanxus is in any state to go anywhere, but better safe than sorry. After all, reason has never stopped a super before.

And so what if the address Chikusa gave him is also hidden in that bag? It’s a just-in-case-scenario for a reason.]

* * *

41.

It’s just another day at Vongola Inc. Just another mission on which Tsuna shouldn’t have been because he’s officially still on desk-duty. But Haru is sick, Cambello-san has been temporarily reassigned to another squad and since Tsuna has physically recovered from the robbery, Mochida can’t just request another operative.

Thus, field work it is.

When the mission inevitably goes to hell, Tsuna isn’t surprised. Though the out-of-nowhere appearance of the Arcobaleno Skull mid-battle is a bit of a left turn. Apparently, Skull has some sort of beef with the two fighting supervillains that have turned an entire shopping mall into their personal battlefield. As it turns out, by doing this they have also positioned themselves smack in between Skull and the release of Animal Crossing — not a place anyone wants to be in.

Mochida has the presence of mind to recall their entire team as the three villains resolve their issues — which is to say Skull beats them into the ground with extreme prejudice — and the entire mission could’ve been labeled as a tentative success if it hadn’t been for the crying three-year-old that steps mid-temper-tantrum straight in the path of one of the neon-colored electrical lights one of the wannabe-villains shoots out of his palms when Skull deflects the thing away from himself.

Hana throws herself forward and takes the hit, mostly shielded by her body-armor, but that doesn’t seem to make much of a difference because Skull _snaps_.

It’s hard to miss considering the entire world lights up purple. And while most of those present who aren’t the two unlucky villains about to be brutally murdered only have to blink spots out of their eyes thanks to the abrupt flare of painfully bright light, Tsuna, who’s not the most coordinated person to begin with, takes a reflexive step back. Which would’ve been fine, if he mall wasn’t built in the shape of a large '0’ with plenty of free room in the middle of every level to look down at the other floors. And if part of the railing that keeps people from falling down said levels hadn’t been obliterated in the fight. And if said fight hadn’t taken place on the fourth floor.

Long story short, Tsuna’s foot meets nothing but empty air behind him. He flails awkwardly for a moment, trying to get a hold of what’s left of the railing, before gravity wins out and Tsuna plummets to the ground.

The last thing he sees is wide, horrified, purple eyes. Then Tsuna falls —

"HIEEEEEEE!"

— and the world goes white.

Yes, white. It takes an endless moment off lying there, motionless before Tsuna finds the courage to open his eyes. Only to be greeted by an endless mass of white. A normal person might have taken a second to wonder whether they’ve made it to heaven after all. Tsuna, unfortunately, is not a normal person. Also, there’s a very particular itch scratching the back of his head that he only ever feels in close proximity to one person.

It is therefore with some genuine relief and a whole lot more honest regret concerning his life choices but no surprise that Tsuna notes that the white mass surrounding him is made of marshmallow.

[The note he’ll find in his back-pocket later that day reading ' _Sleep tight, Tsu-chan, you deserve a break. More comfortable than your mattress though, isn’t it? I’ll see you soon XOXO P.S. If you don’t watch your back, I_ _will_ _do it for you._ ' is just overkill.]

* * *

42.

Xanxus is still at the apartment Tsuna left him in the next day. He’s capable of walking very short distances, massaging his fingers and glaring at Tsuna like he’s imagining roasting him alive for the fun of it.

Tsuna heats up dinner for them both and tries to reassure Xanxus once more that he’s not acting on orders of anyone and all he wants is for Xanxus to recover and then send him on his way. The food turns out fine. Whether or not he succeeds in the second part of his mission, Tsuna honestly isn’t sure.

Xanxus still hasn’t said a word.

* * *

43.

Tsuna is twelve when he comes home and there’s an unfamiliar boy sitting at their kitchen table. His hair is hidden by a blue beanie and his eyes look at Tsuna with an expression he can’t read but niggles at the back of his mind, as though he’s seen it somewhere else before.

"Tsu-kun!" Mamma greats him with a delighted smile. "Say hello to your new brother Chikusa-kun!"

As Nana is more than happy to tell Tsuna when he asks her later just where exactly Chikusa comes from, there’s been a terribly tragic incident in which an illegal super experimentation lab has been discovered in the basement underneath Nana’s favorite nail studio, poor Chikusa-kun being one of the few lucky survivors. And since Nana has always wanted a larger family and surely Tsu-kun will profit from having another boy his age around, she’s filed for adoption immediately.

And that’s that. That’s the official story.

[One unofficial version of the story goes a bit like this: Nana is the wife of Sawada Iemitsu and thus a person of interest in the eyes of Vongola Inc. As such, while she lives largely separate from her husband, there is always a 24 hour protection team keeping an eye on her. When Nana files for the adoption of a boy found under mysterious circumstances in the middle of a bloodbath, one high-up assistant recognizes this for an internal play the likes of which Vongola often sees — after all, what easier way is there to recruit capable supers than to establish a bond with them at a young age? As such, the adoption is rushed through in spite of a missing signature from the husband in question — it’s not as if Sawada’s wife isn’t acting in his stead — and the entire investigation regarding the bloody incident during which the boy was discovered is quickly swept under the rug.

In retrospect, the latter decision especially is one Vongola will likely come to regret.]

"H-Hello K-K-Kusa-k-kun," Tsuna stutters and tries very hard not to look at the blood on Chikusa’s hands.

"Hello Tsuna-kun."

Chikusa doesn’t smile and Tsuna doesn’t wants him to. [ ~~The last time he smiled, he killed the people who _ruined_ him.~~]

* * *

44.

One moment, Tsuna is preparing Xanxus’ dinner the way he does every night. The next, there’s the muffled sound of something heavy hitting the floor behind him and he whirls around, wooden spoon raised as though to fend off an attacker.

Luckily for Tsuna’s continued survival chances, there is no attacker. Unluckily for Xanxus’ continued survival chances, he’s the cause of the noise.

The spoon clatters to the ground in Tsuna’s rush to reach the other man, who’s fallen over and whose prone form is now lying on the ground, his entire body twitching and spasming uncontrollably. Up close, Tsuna can see the way Xanxus’ hands are balled into fists and he bites his lip so hard he’s drawing blood. There’s a keening sound building up in his throat that Xanxus doesn’t manage to muffle entirely, that reminds Tsuna eerily of a dying wolf calling out to its pack. Something low and rumbling and painfully choked off, as though silenced before it could build up the resonance it should’ve reached.

Tsuna’s hands flutter restlessly over Xanxus’ forehead, his shoulders, but— He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know what’s happening, what the problem is, how to fix this. This is more than the occasional muscle tremor he’s observed, even when Xanxus has done his best to pretend they aren’t happening. This is a full-body seizure that doesn’t appear to abate and Tsuna has _never_ felt so fucking useless in his entire life.

It’s in that moment that a realization crystalizes in Tsuna’s heart. It’s not a completely new revelation, feels more like a train of thought he’s followed before but has never dragged out to the very end. Has never taken the time to let the final conclusion take shape. Because it’s in this very moment that Tsuna acknowledges for perhaps the very first time — [he’s _weak_ and _stupid_ and _silly_ and _naive_ and _slow_ , and knowing that hurts, has always hurt, but Tsuna doesn’t mind those, not as much as he should, but:] — he **hates** feeling useless.

Tsuna isn’t a doctor. He can’t heal Xanxus, certainly can’t diagnose the problem. But although he doesn’t understand what’s going on, he knows _exactly_ whom to blame for it. [ ~~You can’t put someone into a cage for years and not expect there to be consequences.~~ ]

On a hunch — it’s that stupid not-ice that’s causing the issue, has to be — Tsuna ignites. Watches the not-flames spark along his hands and slowly, oh so slowly transfer onto Xanxus, cradle him, seep their warmth into his skin—

~~You’re ours, ours, ours. They broke you, but they didn’t unmake you and they never will. We won’t let them. You’ll remake yourself, just you wait and see. All will be well. Shhhh. Let us **in**.~~

—until they encompass him entirely. Tsuna watches through eyes narrowed in concentration as the tension seeps out of Xanxus’ expression and his eyes open slowly. There’s confusion and shock, but Xanxus’ pupils are blown wide and the thin ring of color that usually burns such a brilliant red glows as bright and orange as the flames that surround him.

Tsuna manages to hold the flames for fifteen minutes, until long after the last of Xanxus’ overworked muscles has stopped spasming, before the heat splutters and fades. Tsuna falls face first onto Xanxus’ chest, caught off-guard by the heavy mantel of exhaustion that blankets him, but he manages to right himself after a moment, spurred on by Xanxus’ pained groan.

He valiantly tries to ignore his heated cheeks and focuses on the important part, which is Xanxus’ health. "Are you feeling better?"

As usual, Xanxus doesn’t respond. He just looks at Tsuna, his eyes still more orange then red, though their real color is slowly rushing back in. When Tsuna makes no move to ramble or switch the subject the way he usually does though, Xanxus finally nods.

Once. With an impressive scowl.

"Good." Tsuna’s eyes narrow. "That wasn’t the first time this happened, was it?"

If possible, Xanxus’ scowl deepens.

 _Fuck_.

* * *

45.

Tsuna supposes the fact that his apartment door is unlocked when he finally makes it home to catch a few hours of sleep should worry him. Unfortunately, it appears that he has reached his monthly maximum level of concern. That or Marshmallow Muffin’s antics are desensitizing him to super-related madness in general and invasions of his personal space in particular. Tsuna doesn’t know which option terrifies him more. For now, he tables the decision for a time when he has the mental capacity to make it and enters his apartment.

He doesn’t know what he expects — knowing his luck for his entire apartment to have been cleaned out — but it’s not what he finds. Because there’s an Arcobaleno in his apartment. And no matter how often Tsuna repeats that thought, it doesn’t sound any more reasonable.

"Skull-sama?!"

The man who is indeed Skull turns around and greets him with a bright smile. "Tsunayoshi-kun! Welcome home!"

 _Oh great. Another one that knows my name. And where I live. And is standing in my kitchen_ , Tsuna notes blankly. It’s not the discovery that Skull is apparently just as much of a stalker at heart as his fellow Arcobaleno Reborn that throws Tsuna for a loop so much as the fact that it has apparently led to Skull cooking in his kitchen while bobbing his head to Taylor Swift.

Tsuna has so many questions. Not the least of which being — "Did you bring your own apron?"

Skull is dressed entirely in black leather, but his front is covered by a bright purple apron that Tsuna doesn’t remember owning. The question makes the man light up even more. "Yup, picked it up on the way over here. Awesome, isn’t it? Don’t worry, I’m leaving it here. You can never have too many aprons after all and you have none."

The future whereabouts of the apron in question is not even close to something Tsuna is worried about. His lack of reaction doesn’t seem to dim Skull’s enthusiasm though.

"You’re just in time! I made sukiyaki." Skull gestures towards the table which has already been set — only for one person though.

"Huh." Tsuna sits down, half waiting for the other shoe to drop. "That’s my favorite."

"Is it?" Skull smiles like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. "What a wonderful coincidence!"

In a show of great self-restraint, Tsuna doesn’t throw his plate in the man’s face. Mostly because that might just be suicidal and a little bit because the food really does smell — and taste — delicious.

"Thank you, Skull-sama," Tsuna says instead because his mother raised him to be polite. "May I ask why you’ve decided to cook for me?"

And it’s clearly for him, as odd as the thought is. Skull hasn’t touched the food, nor does he make a move to join Tsuna at the table.

"Ah." Skull rubs the back of his neck. "Well, it’s sort of an apology for that teeny-tiny incident where I almost killed you on accident? I felt really terrible about losing control like that, and especially after you’ve helped me get one over Reborn, even after it turned out you were fine— you are fine, aren’t you? You look a bit pale. Here, drink this."

 _He sounds like Marshmallow Muffin_ , Tsuna thinks and is promptly horrified by the thought. So horrified he doesn’t react to the glass of freshly pressed orange juice — Tsuna can’t even remember the last time he bought oranges — Skull places in his hand, except to reflexively sip on it.

"Anyway, you always look stressed and a bit drawn and you live alone and never seem to go out for dinner, so I figured a home-made meal would be appreciated. I hope that’s alright."

For a moment, Skull looks abashed, as though it suddenly occurs him that most people prefer for their guests to enter _after_ receiving an invitation. Which is more than even Marshmallow Muffin has ever done — though considering the avid interest he’s shown in the self-help books Nana used to pile Tsuna with, there’s still hope on that front — so Tsuna takes it for the win it so obviously is and inclines his head.

"It’s fine, Skull-sama. I’m afraid I’m just a bit tired and won’t make for good company."

"Oh, don’t you worry about that!" Skull waves him off. "Just sit back, enjoy the food and don’t worry about anything. I’m gonna clean up the kitchen and then I’ll be on my way."

Skull does indeed clean the kitchen. The _entire_ kitchen, not just the pans and stove. Huh. Standing inside his sparkling kitchen that didn’t even look this clean when Tsuna moved in, only for Skull to immediately take the plate and glass off his hands and shoo him off to bed, Tsuna figures that he can probably get used to this.

 _Yes, Skull is alright_ , Tsuna decides the next morning upon discovering a plate with still-warm pancakes, another glass of fresh orange juice and a fully-packed bento waiting for him on the counter. _He can stay_.

* * *

46.

Tsuna must have been a terrible person in a former life. A serial killer. Maybe even an insane, bloodthirsty dictator. He’s always suspected it, of course, but now Tsuna has officially reached a point at which terms like 'bad luck' and 'coincidence' just don’t cover it anymore. It’s either karma or some higher being is deliberately setting him up for failure.

Because after two three weeks of blissful peace — on that front at least, which these days sadly doesn’t say much — the Arcobaleno Reborn is stalking Tsuna once more. They haven’t run into each other, so there should’ve been no reason for the man to seek him out again after he’d lost interest the first time. Tsuna has no explanation for the sudden change, but disregarding the fact that it’s making him even more twitchy at work than he already is [and he’s still waiting every day for the alarms to sound, for the guards to tackle him to the ground or save themselves the trouble and execute him straight away], Reborn’s return couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Over the last several days, Tsuna has treated Xanxus’ weird seizures no less than three times. And he knows there have been more occasions while he’s been gone that Xanxus refuses to speak of [ ~~like he refuses to speak of anything at all~~ ] and that he’s not the only one worried by them. They haven’t grown worse in length of time or intensity as far as Tsuna can tell, but considering Xanxus’ less than helpful assistance he can’t rely on that.

Even if it’s not getting any worse and Xanxus seems to otherwise recover fairly well — he’s already walking around the apartment without getting out of breath and Tsuna has caught him doing simple stretch exercises and sit-ups — things can’t remain the way they are forever. Tsuna’s heat clearly can’t treat the problem, only ease the symptom and once Vongola grows more vigilant Tsuna won’t be able to stop by as much.

[Which is one more reason why Xanxus’ continued refusals to get back in touch with his team exasperate him. Xanxus can’t rely on Tsuna for much longer, but while his recovery is nothing short of a miracle, he’s still not self-sufficient.]

Tsuna’s been putting that conversation off, but he knows he can’t afford to do that for much longer. Not with Reborn watching him from the shadows. Tsuna can’t be certain that he can always sense Reborn and handing the man the sort of volatile information that is Xanxus’ current location would be a phenomenally stupid idea.

There’s no way around it — Tsuna needs to get rid off Reborn, at least for a couple of hours. Long enough to not just loose his trail but to not be missed at all. And as unhappy as the plan makes him, desperate times call for desperate allies.

"Tsu-chan, is that you?" Marshmallow Muffin chirps the moment he answers the phone, not giving Tsuna the chance to get a word in edge-wise. "Oh, I’m so delighted you called! How can I help you?"

Perhaps the most disturbing part is that he sounds like he truly means it.

"I— Do you have a moment?"

"But of course, Tsu-chan! You know you only have to ask. This party sucks anyway, there’s not even a decent dessert buffet, can you believe they don’t have chocolate pudding? Hang on a second."

There’s a an wet, gasping noise that sounds suspiciously like some choking on their own blood. Tsuna firmly resolves not to ask.

"Yup." Marshmallow Muffin makes a pop-ing sound that _definitely_ isn’t covering something more nefarious in the background. "Would you look at that, my afternoon suddenly appears to be wide open. What did you have in mind, Tsu-chan? Start a prank war with Vongola? Go on a live adventure in a not-so-secret government facility to rescue their test subjects? Bond over shared childhood trauma and tragic backstories?"

"Actually, I- err, I was hoping you could do me a favor?" Tsuna doesn’t mean for the request to come out with that questioning lilt, but is powerless to stop it.

"Huh. I didn’t think we’d reach the friendship level involving shared favors and unvoiced understanding for another month at least. You always manage to surprise me, Tsu-chan." Marshmallow Muffin chuckles before the humor seems to seep out of his voice entirely, turning what could have been a sweet compliment into an almost-threat. "Don’t ever change."

For a moment Tsuna can almost picture Marshmallow Muffin standing in front of an entire wall titled 'Goal: Become Tsu-chan’s BFF’, covered in pictures, background information, research on friendships and how to make them, colored charts and an estimated project timeline, highlighted events, marked dates and motivational quotes included. The mental image is startlingly detailed and it takes him a moment to shake the bizarre picture off.

"You see, there’s this Arcobaleno stalking me—"

"And you want me to get rid of him?" Marshmallow Muffin’s smile is audible. "How intriguing! Did you know there’s some rumors saying that the Arcobaleno are immortal and can’t be killed? I’d very much like to know if it’s true… and if you can’t kill even the unkillable if you try hard enough…"

"Ah, no," Tsuna interrupts before the conversation is derailed beyond saving. "I was thinking of a less permanent solution than death. A distraction perhaps? Just- Just for a few hours?"

"Oh." Marshmallow Muffin sounds _disappointed_. Tsuna resists the urge to facepalm. Or cry. Possibly both. "Well, I suppose playing with him for a bit first could be entertaining. He’s pretty high-strung, isn’t he? I wonder if I can run faster than bullets can fly." There. Marshmallow Muffin sounds cheered by his rather disturbing train of thought. Tsuna supposes that’s something. [Whether it’s something 'good' is a matter best not decided with a sober mind. He really misses his calm evenings at Neutral Ground, but Tsuna hasn’t dared going back since he’s stolen Xanxus. He’s not sure he could face Leviathan’s grief and not say _something_.]

"Does that mean you’ll do it?"

"But of course, Tsu-chan!" Marshmallow Muffin laughs. "As if there was any doubt. You’re the perfect bait for a reason, aren’t you?"

Tsuna closes his eyes in relief and ignores that last sentence, ignores every inner voice telling him not to encourage the crazy maniac, every instinct that tells him ~~he’ll kill you the moment you stop amusing him~~ and [ ~~he can _try_~~ ] and says a very heart-felt, "Thank you."

* * *

47.

Tsuna knows Chikusa is a supervillain from the moment he first sees him sitting in his kitchen, eating his mother’s food. [ ~~He knows the boy has blood on his hands and when he looks a little closer, squints his eyes just so, there’s a shadow of another boy clinging to Kusa-kun who is looking back at him with equal interest.~~ ]

But Tsuna doesn’t have any friends, just a happily humming mother and an absentee father, and so he tells no one of his observations, only watches silently when Chikusa gets the results of his alignment test and burns the envelope without opening it. And even if his father had been home, even if a teacher had taken an interest in the way Tsuna flinches away from Chikusa sometimes, not in fear so much but because the blood still occasionally catches him by surprise, Tsuna likely wouldn’t have seen any reason to share his thoughts.

He knows lots of people with blood on their hands after all. His father is one of them.

Despite all that, despite the fact that Chikusa isn’t _like_ him, he’s not a bad brother. [Lots of people aren’t like Tsuna after all. Most of them are better.] He walks with Tsuna to school every morning and waits for him after classes are finished every afternoon. He doesn’t mock Tsuna when he comes back with yet another falling grade and he always eats the bentos Tsuna prepares for him when Kaasan is having a bad day and doesn’t get out of bed. Sometimes Chikusa even spends lunch with Tsuna and none of the other boys in his class dare come close to them and take Tsuna’s meal.

Chikusa doesn’t talk much with anyone, but he doesn’t mind if Tsuna chatters on and on, doesn’t cut him off when he stumbles over a words or forgets one and has to pause and think on it. Chikusa watches and listens and he’s so quiet, so subtle and present that it takes Tsuna a long while to realize he likes that.

That he likes to be _seen_. To be _heard_.

[One afternoon, Tsuna stumbles out of school with bruises on his forearms and bloody knees. Chikusa doesn’t say a word about it, not to the teachers and not to Kaasan. Just takes Tsuna’s hand and leads him home.

The next day, there’s an accident in gym class. Two boys and one girl are hospitalized, four more need to visit the school nurse.

None of the children in Tsuna’s year bother him again.]

* * *

48.

Reborn is watching him again, Tsuna can feel it. At this point, the Arcobaleno’s gaze no longer feels itchy, it’s more like there’s an entire army of fire-ants dancing along Tsuna’s nerves. That Marshmallow Muffin is late doesn’t help matters.

Tsuna checks the watch again.

It’s been over two days since he’s last seen Xanxus and 'worried out of his mind' doesn’t even begin to describe Tsuna’s state. Today, he’s walked into four door frames, ruined two files because he spilled his coffee on it and tripped down an entire three flights of stairs. That last one shouldn’t have been possible, Hana has assured him, but somehow he’s made it work.

On the bright side, Mochida is sending him home early. On the tall-dark-and-armed side, Tsuna can’t leave until Reborn is suitably distracted, so he’s dithering around the office, hoping for a miracle. Or a bored supervillain willing to indulge him. Same difference.

"Going somewhere?"

"HIE!"

Tsuna jerks around because naturally Reborn has suddenly decided that just looking isn’t enough and has appeared behind Tsuna’s back. As in less than two inches behind Tsuna’s back.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Tsuna wails. Stumbles back and trips over his desk chair. How come it’s impossible to find an empty room in Vongola when you need to have a private phone call, but the second it conveniences a wanted supervillain, Tsuna is suddenly all-alone in the middle of the day?

"Trying implies not succeeding, a flaw I am not known for." Reborn smirks. He’s watching Tsuna, though that stupid fedora he’s wearing shadows his eyes. "You haven’t answered my question."

Tsuna gapes.

Closes his mouth again. Opens it. Nope. Words still refuse to come.

"Well, well, well, making new friends, Tsu-chan?" a sugary-sweet voice pipes up from — once again, what is it with villains and appearing in his blind spot? — right behind Tsuna. For once it’s a welcome one though.

Tsuna sags, whereas Reborn tenses. Not visibly, but Tsuna can almost feel an added vibration of barely suppressed energy in the air. It’s hard to describe really, but for a moment, when it thickens almost to the point where Tsuna thinks it should be visible to the naked eye, it reminds him of—

"Run along now, sugarplum," Marshmallow Muffin murmurs honey-sweet and all the more creepy for it. "Me and this exemplary specimen of a supervillain have a little something to discuss."

"We do?" Reborn’s eyebrows ask blandly.

"Oh, we do very much indeed. Marshmallow?" Marshmallow Muffin holds out a package of fluffy sweets.

If anything, Reborn’s eyebrows seem to become even more deadpan.

"Okay, then." Tsuna walks nervously backwards and pretends his back doesn’t ache from where he accidentally rams its corner into his lower pack. "I’m just gonna— leave you to it then."

He high-tails it out of there as fast as possible and absently wonders whether he should’ve specified to Marshmallow Muffin that he’d prefer if the Vongola HQ is still standing by the end of the day. Probably.

* * *

49.

"Figured it out, haven’t you?" Byakuran asks the moment his sweet little BFF has left them to it, charmingly tripping over his feet on the way out. He’ll have to find out if that clumsiness is natural or caused by high stress levels and nerves at some point, but that’s an issue for another day.

The Arcobaleno watches him with something a little more patient than murderous intent and all the more deadly for it. Reborn is an enemy not to be underestimated — but neither is Byakuran, and if the Arcobaleno is half as good as his reputation paints him, he’s aware of that. He doesn’t answer the question, but Byakuran hadn’t expected him to.

Simply smiles with less _sugar_ and more _challenge_ and says: "It’s about time. It only took me twenty minutes within first meeting him."

* * *

50.

Xanxus is still back at the apartment, his health is steadily improving and he hasn’t died yet, which is a relief. He’s also still suffering from seizures, keeping his self-imposed vow of silence and generally digging his heels in regarding contacting the Varia, which is not.

Tsuna is starting to reach the end of his rope.

He can’t keep this up for much longer. The lack of sleep and worry over Xanxus’ health are wearing him down. Not to mention Vongola is bound to notice him missing eventually. [Tsuna can’t believe they _haven’t_ yet.] Plus Reborn. And Marshmallow Muffin. Now that he thinks about it, it’s a miracle they haven’t been discovered yet.

Thus it’s perhaps not as surprising as it would be under different circumstances that Tsuna’s patience finally reaches its breaking point.

"I don’t understand you!" he exclaims when Xanxus refuses to answer his questions with anything other than a decisive head-shake. "You’re improving, yes, but you need help, Xanxus-san! And you know it! You have to know that your team would be ecstatic to have you back, that they would gladly help you recover fully. For Kami’s sake, you can’t hide here for the rest of your life! How do you think this is gonna end, huh? Sooner or later Vongola is gonna get their shit together and they’ll turn over every damn stone in their search for you and then they’ll never let you go again. So I don’t care if it hurts your pride that you have to rely on someone else, you need to pull your head out of your ass and deal with it!"

By the end of his rant, Tsuna is out of breath and still shaking with the force of his frustration. That Xanxus _still hasn’t said a word_ only increases his anger.

"Give me _one good reason_ why we shouldn’t call them or I swear on my life, I’m gonna walk out that door and straight to the next phone boot and tell them your address!"

That gets a reaction, if not the one Tsuna is looking for, because Xanxus _snarls_. No, he shouts. It’s a terrible, guttural sound, something garbled and twisted that doesn’t even sound human and suddenly Tsuna _gets_ it.

 _Of course_. Tsuna stares with dull horror into agonized red eyes. "You can’t speak." Then, once he’s turned the realization over in his head a few times— "Why didn’t you say something?!"

Even with his mouth twisted into a bitter mockery of a smirk, Xanxus manages to look sarcastic. Tsuna flushes, but doesn’t relent. "Don’t give me that, you know what I mean. You’re perfectly capable of making yourself understood."

Like when Xanxus got sick of the pre-packed chicken soup and made his distaste known by throwing the bowl at Tsuna’s face. [He has hence learned how to duck.]

Naturally, he receives no response. Still. Tsuna thinks he might understand a little better now. He’s all too familiar with being _damaged_ after all. With not being good enough.

[A part of his mind is still puzzling through the hows and whys, is wondering whether the not-ice did the damage, whether Xanxus was frozen mid-speaking and that’s why his throat appears to be so much worse off than the rest of his body or if maybe— ~~maybe there’s no physical damage at all, maybe it’s psychosomatic, maybe after eight years of being locked down, of being seen but never noticed, never heard, some part of Xanxus has learned that no one ever will~~ ]

"You’re very lucky, you know," are the words that come out of Tsuna’s mouth without asking his brain for permission and nope that’s not what he meant to say at all, oh kami, Xanxus is already feeling vulnerable, he’s going to _murder_ him. His mouth doesn’t get the message though. "What your father did is unforgivable," he continues instead of shutting up like a sane person would, "and I can’t begin to comprehend what you went through in that thing. But lots of kids grow up with bad parents and lots of people get betrayed by someone they trust. You went out and made yourself your own family. You found people that love and follow you and remain loyal to an organization they despise even after eight years without a proof of life on the off-chance they might get you back! Do you even realize how amazing that is?"

[ _Do you realize I would do ~~anything~~ for that?_]

"And if you think they’d give a single fuck that you aren’t hundred percent or not exactly the same or whatever it is you’re wallowing about, then you clearly don’t know them at all!"

His eyes burn. Tsuna blinks in confusion. Why is he crying? Why does this bother him so much? Why does he even care?

Xanxus just stares at him, face unreadable, and Tsuna is _done_. "Fine, be that way! See if I care!"

He slams the pot with the spaghetti with tomato sauce — Xanxus has been able to stomach solid food for four days now — down onto the table hard enough for the wood to creak ominously, grabs his backpack and storms out without another glance in Xanxus’ direction.

And. Tsuna could’ve gone straight home. Should have, probably. Knows that Reborn will likely pop up soon, expecting Tsuna to be in his apartment. The smart thing to do would be to go there, to keep up the charade.

But.

Tsuna has never once made the smart choice in his life. [He’s still so damn angry.] And despite the disparaging comments Mochida makes about Tsuna’s memory, he can recall the address Chikusa gave him just fine.

* * *

51.

Tsuna is four years old when Sawada Iemitsu first realizes that there is something wrong with his son.

Tsuna is four years old and Iemitsu takes his son to work with him for the first time, only to promptly lose sight of the small boy upon being distracted by a co-worker in dire need of his signature. He finds Tsuna four hours later in the first basement — _thank Kami_ the boy hasn’t discovered the second level, there are certain things hidden away in the rumbling darkness of Vongola Inc.’s underbelly that are not meant to be seen by the eyes of children — observing the interrogation of Daemon, one of the most powerful mental supervillains Iemitsu has seen in his career.

Thankfully the interrogation room is empty — safe for the captured villain, that is. Tsuna is young and has a soft heart and is easily scared. He’ll grow out of it, that much Iemitsu doesn’t doubt, but for now witnessing even a clean interrogation doesn’t seem appropriate.

Daemon, of course, isn’t fooled by the one-way mirror. His unnerving indigo-colored eyes meet Iemitsu’s on the moment he enters the supposedly hidden observation room his prodigious son has somehow discovered, an unsettling smile on his lips. The man may be bound and trapped in every way Vongola could think of, but just being in his presence, feeling the Killing Intent permeating the air, pressing down on him from all sides, raises Iemitsu’s hackles.

[He _hates_ mentals. Always has. The fact that even their own trained mind-readers and illusionists can’t swear that Daemon’s gift has been neutralized, are unsure if what they see in his mind is truth or yet another layer of the most complex illusion any of them have ever encountered, does nothing to ease the uneasy feeling in Iemitsu’s gut.]

Iemitsu wants to take a step back on instinct, to bring as much distance between himself and this man as is conceivable, but he’s long-practiced in controlling his own reaction. Where a lesser man may have faltered, Iemitsu soldiers on. He doesn’t show how much effort it takes him. [Even without his gift in play, Daemon is a powerful foe and he knows that. He wants Vongola to know it too, if the way he’s throwing his Killing Intent around is any indication. Unfortunately Iemitsu is all too aware that even the strain he currently feels is only a smidge of the intensity Daemon is capable of. Truly a monster of a man.]

Poor Tsuna. The boy must be nearly catatonic.

Except when Iemitsu turns towards his son he nearly does a double-take because little Tsuna isn’t curled up in a corner, sobbing his heart out or passed out on the ground. He’s standing with his hands and face pressed against the one-way mirror, staring curiously at Daemon, who— appears to make faces at him.

When he sticks out his tongue, Tsuna _giggles_ and _copies him_.

Iemitsu sweatdrops. This— This isn’t normal. This isn’t natural. Tsuna is a superhero, has reached the highest point ever achieved on the scale and Iemitsu _can’t wait_ to tell Nono, to show off how amazing his son truly is. But a superhero of Tsuna’s strength should feel Daemon’s Killing Intent like a crawling sensation across his extremities. Should run the other way screaming, not play games.

There is no way to tell superheroes and supervillains apart for sure, not without access to the alignment test which even Vongola Inc., for all its power and jealously hoarded knowledge, has never managed to recreate.

But powerful villains, _really_ powerful villains are capable of wielding their own intent to kill, to hurt, to destroy like a weapon against their surroundings and Tsuna _should be able to tell_. Not with a normal villains perhaps [for those with scores of 35 or higher are impossible to distinguish from heroes even by Vongola’s most sensitive sensors], but with Daemon here, who makes no attempt to mask the Killing Intent in the air, is in fact intensifying it as he watches Tsuna with sharp eyes. And Tsuna doesn’t notice. Doesn’t even flinch.

His shy, unsure, little boy, who still hides behind Nana’s legs every time Iemitsu comes home for the first time in a few weeks, isn’t scared. And because Iemitsu is a Sawada, because the intuition his family is renown and feared for is as strong in him as it is in every member of his bloodline, he _knows_ that it’s not because Tsuna has suddenly found his courage — it’s because Tsuna genuinely can’t tell.

The famed sixth sense of a superhero, the _most important_ one to be cultivated if one wants to survive in the field. The true mark of a Vongola operative. The sense they hone and in turn are feared for [because it’s the closest anyone has ever come to tell hero from villain, to identify the mastermind, the leader, the true supervillains before they reveal themselves] and Tsuna _lacks_ it. Is crippled on such a fundamental level Iemitsu struggles to comprehend it.

And. Iemitsu has never feared for his son. Tsuna is clumsy, but children grow and bodies can be trained. Tsuna is shy, but confidence can be built and experience can bolster it. Tsuna is sweet, but as long as he won’t let his kindness rule him in the field, it won’t be an issue. But this — this isn’t something that can be trained. This isn’t something Iemitsu knows how to pass on, how to teach, how to fix, but. He has to fix it. _He will_.

[Perhaps Iemitsu’s greatest fault is that he never once stops to consider a future outside Vongola for his son.]

Out loud, Iemitsu says none of this. He bends down and picks Tsuna up with a stern, "You shouldn’t be here, Tsu-kun. This is no place for little boys," and carries him out of the observation room. He doesn’t pay the mocking dare written in Daemon’s eyes any mind, nor does he look back, not even when Tsuna waves the supervillain goodbye over his shoulder.

~~If he had, Iemitsu would’ve seen the bindings keeping the man contained flicker and fade. Would’ve seen him lift one hand and wave back.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, this fic was supposed to be _short_.  
> I'm also not sure if I've gotten Byakuran right [he kinda came out of left-field and refused to leave] but I haven't made up my mind whether this Byakuran can see through dimensions or not, so in case he doesn't that's my justification for why he turned out different. Also a little more insight into the Mukuro/Chikusa/Tsuna drama [and on a related matter, yes, okay, Vongola may be a superhero organization now, but supers are still a recent development and like in any other world, the organization has been founded and built on blood] and on Iemitsu [you didn't think we'd seen the last of him yet, did you?].  
> Skull, as always, is a sweetheart and Xanxus, as always, is a pain.  
> I hope you enjoyed this update and I'd love to hear your thoughts in a comment! Feel free to ask questions as well - just don't be surprised if I answer some even if the answers contain spoilers because I have zero self-control. Thanks for reading & have a wonderful day!


	6. If The Protagonist Could At Least Pretend To Understand What’s Going On, That Would Be Great

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna meets the Varia and the Varia meet Tsuna. Officially. Against all odds and despite multiple murder attempts nobody dies.

52.

The Varia’s current hideout is not what Tsuna expected. Granted, he doesn’t know what it is he wasexpecting. A castle, looming ominously on top of an unrealistically steep hill in the middle of a park? An underwater cave with water that glows in sickly shades of green? A superficially abandoned warehouse with three hidden cellar floors, one of them built like a labyrinth with no actual exit? None of them — no matter how unpractical in practice — would be the weirdest architectural choice a supervillain has made in this city. Supers are so dramatic. It would be amusing if it wasn’t so exhausting. Or maybe that’s just Tsuna.

Anyway, the Varia are apparently holed up in an apartment complex that for all intents and purposes appears completely normal. _Hana_ could live in one such apartment and no one would raise an eyebrow and Hana is the least dramatic super Tsuna knows.

Although that probably makes sense. With how unreasonably over-the-top the Varia’s more visible attacks often are, it’s easy to forget that they are assassins and most of their greatest successes haven’t even been attributed to them — or in some cases been identified as murder at all. Despite their eccentrics, the Varia are more than capable of moving unseen. Also rebuilding an evil lair every time your current address gets burned — which, considering they are [unwillingly] working _for_ Vongola Inc. must happen a lot — seems like an expensive waste of resources, but maybe that’s just Tsuna.

On a related note, Tsuna really needs to stop thinking about those strictly confidential files concerning some missions Vongola Inc. has assigned the Varia over the years that he’s read up on during the last few days. [All those missions were successful. None of them were pretty.] His hands are already trembling, it won’t do to faint on their doorstep before he’s even rung the bell.

Tsuna really, really should’ve just gone home. That’s where his bed is — Tsuna’s favorite place in the entire world. With any luck, there won’t even be a supervillain in it, though that’s by no means a given. Marshmallow Muffin has odd measurements for tracking the progress of their Ultimate Friendship™. He’s developed an entirely new scale just for cuddles.

Mourning the sleep he could be getting right now if he wasn’t running on exhaustion, un-cried tears and spite [the latter aimed solely at Xanxus’ stubbornness], Tsuna rings the stupid doorbell.

And promptly jumps at least three feet high into the air with an embarrassingly loud shriek. Because the perfectly ordinary doorbell doesn’t ring, it _cackles_. [It’s a proper cackle too, the sort that sounds like an unholy mixture of Prince Belphegor at the height of his bloodlust and Tsuna’s adorable but terrifying former classmate Kyoko-chan on a sugar high.]

Tsuna kind of wants to bury himself under the doormat in embarrassment. It’s a good thing Xanxus isn’t around to witness this. He’d have kicked Tsuna inside by now. _Through_ the door. Which still hasn’t opened even though Tsuna would bet his entire monthly salary on having the eyes of at least three different hidden security cameras on him right now.

It’s possible they aren’t even here right now — and maybe that’s for the best. Tsuna can just leave them a note with Xanxus’ address or something. Okay, that’s a stupid idea, but now that he’s here, about to come face to face with the Varia it occurs to Tsuna that he really hasn’t thought this through. What is he even supposed to _say_ to them? 'Hey, you don’t know me and have no reason to trust me, but your missing boss is sulking in my secret hideout and I’d really like him to stop, so could visit him please and thank you.'

That’s not suspicious at all.

In that moment, as though in response to his plight, Tsuna’s special brand of luck renders the question moot when from one moment to the next the alarm bells inside Tsuna’s mind go off at a deafening volume, a fraction of a second before Tsuna is spun around by his shoulders and slammed against the still very much closed door. By his throat.

"Ushishishi, what’s this?" Prince Belphegor — the blonde hair covering half his face and blood-red hood can belong to no one else — smirks. "Another Vongola for the Prince to play with? I haven’t even finished breaking the last one yet."

Right. There’d been a note regarding the speed at which the Varia go through Vongola-approved handlers in their file, wasn’t there? Some [though admittedly a minority] have suffered an unfortunate demise in the field during chaotic battles in which no one could ever prove that the Varia hadn’t done their best to keep them alive. Most sign up for transfer at the earliest possibility, four had a mental breakdown.

[ ~~Putting a leash on a wild animal doesn’t _tame_ them, certainly doesn’t make them safe. It just shortens their reach.~~]

And now that Tsuna thinks about it, he definitely should’ve changed out of his Vongola uniform first. It’s like wearing a red shirt on Star Trek.

Belphegor’s fingers around Tsuna’s throat tightens — which does prove the point his rational mind makes fairly well. It doesn’t exactly help resolve the situation though, Tsuna thinks from where he’s balancing on his tiptoes [it’s so unfair that every supervillain who corners him like this is taller than he is, Tsuna isn’t that small, damn it], desperately trying to push the hands away from his much-needed air supply.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he tries to say, but what comes out is more along the lines of 'Wheeeeest’p—is.'

Belphegor tilts his head, though it’s hard to say if he’s curious, annoyed or just deadpanning. With his eyes covered the way they are, every expression reads like a deadpan. The only hint of his mood his the wideness of his smile, which is currently staying firmly in the 'freaking Tsuna the fuck out' zone. Wonderful.

The grip around his throat eases a bit, but it doesn’t disappear.

"Vongola peasants should speak quickly and only if they have something of interest to say, lest they waste the Prince’s valuable time." Belphegor traces Tsuna’s Adam’s apple with his thumb and wow, the creepy bar of this conversation is rising rapidly, even for supervillain standards. Then again, as things currently stands Tsuna has some odd standards regarding supervillains that are most definitely Marshmallow Muffin’s fault. [And maybe a two certain Arcobalenos’, but mostly Marshmallow Muffin.]

Tsuna swallows. The motion makes the hand around his throat all the harder to ignore. "M-Message for Superbia Squalo," Tsuna manages to rasp because if there’s anyone among this particular group of villains that won’t gut him immediately for daring to speak their missing leader’s name, it’s probably — hopefully — Xanxus’ right hand and second in command.

Belphegor sneers, but let’s go of Tsuna’s throat to grab a fist full of his jacket instead and drags him through the apparently unlocked door. Tsuna doesn’t have enough breath back yet to offer more than a token squeak of protest as he’s pulled along an empty hallway deeper and through a second door that Tsuna is almost certain scans Belphegor’s fingerprints as he pulls it open. There’s no more time to wonder at the subtle security measures the Varia apparently favor, because Belphegor gives one final pull that has Tsuna stumble into an unexpectedly cozy living room. The ground is covered in thick, dark carpet that must be a pain to get the blood out and there’s an open fire burning on the right side, near a small cabinet filled with what must be expensive liquor and a lot of glasses.

[Perhaps Xanxus’ tendency to throw dishes isn’t a newly acquired habit born out of frustration at his lack of ability to express himself as Tsuna has assumed.]

On the opposite end of the room, facing the only door two couches, three armchairs and one opulent throne-like chair are arranged in a semi-circle. The throne is empty [it doesn’t take a genius to realize whom it belongs to and something in Tsuna’s chest tightens painfully at the sight of it] and there’s no sign of Leviathan, but Tsuna recognizes Lussuria, a tall man with bright green hair, who lies stretched out over one of the couches and is giving Tsuna the mother of all dismissive looks over his red-rimmed sunglasses, and Squalo, known for his long, silver-white hair that hasn’t managed to get him killed in a fight yet against all reason, who is seated in one of the armchairs and doesn’t appear to happy with the paperwork on his lap.

To be fair, when he glances up and catches sight of Tsuna — more precisely the Vongola Inc. emblem over his heart — he looks even more unhappy than before.

"VOI!" the man shouts at eardrum-shattering level, successfully breaking the quiet atmosphere. "The fuck is this?!"

The screaming is all the more baffling when one considers that Tsuna is literally only two steps away from him — well three, after that shout. He’d have stumbled back even further, but his back meets a wall made of Belphegor at his least friendly, who has positioned himself very unsubtly between Tsuna and the door. Just perfect.

"The Prince found a little Vongola spy at the door," Belphegor sing-songs. "He has a message to give before the Prince can play with him to find out how he found us."

That last part sounds way too ominous out loud, considering even the first part already has shivers of _badbadbadrunforyourlife_ race down Tsuna’s spine. Squalo’s very clear anger doesn’t help. This must be one of their safe houses then, not just an address at which potential clients can get in touch with them. Which speaks well for the quality of Chikusa’s information — [and Tsuna has some questions regarding that that he _never, ever_ wants answered] — but far less well for his own survival chances even if he can convince them that he really does know where Xanxus is.

"The fuck are you and what the hell are you doing here, scum?!" Squalo snaps from up close — and how has Tsuna missed him getting up?

It’s a mixture of panic and really not knowing how to put the Xanxus-situation in proper words that has Tsuna blurt out the answer to the question he _can_ answer first: "S-Sawada Tsunayoshi," he stutters, realizing a second too late that he should have lied.

The knowledge lodges itself into his brain in that very moment, a true lightbulb moment of ~~they will know your father and they will hate him~~ but it’s too little too late. Tsuna doesn’t even have time to blink before his back once again meets a wall. Painfully.

[And yes. He’s being choked again. Tsuna really is getting tired of that. Is it too much to ask for a little creativity in all these psychopathic killers that keep intruding on his personal space? How hard can it be to mix things up a little?]

He’s probably hysterical. Or is so sleep-deprived that sanity has lost all meaning. It’s a fifty-fifty chance. Actually it’s probably closer to thirty-seventy.

"Any known relation to Sawada Iemitsu?" Squalo says instead of asks, so Tsuna doesn’t bother with a response. He couldn’t have offered one if he’d wanted to and Squalo doesn’t seem to care either way. He’s too busy exchanging a meaningful look with another person who appears to be nothing more than a shadow in the corner of Tsuna’s eye and then snaps out low and precise: "Do it."

"I’ll expect my usual fee," murmurs the other person and steps fully into Tsuna’s view. Their entire body is shrouded in darkness — not just a black cloak, actual darkness as in an illusion that encompasses them entirely, no wonder Tsuna hasn’t noticed them upon entering — and their face covered by a shadowed hood that resembles the one Belphegor wears except its black. "An additional 1’000 if this turns out to be a waste of my time."

Tsuna can’t make out any facial features even as the stranger — they go by Mammon, it can’t be anyone else — leans closer. Despite that, Tsuna knows the exact moment their gazes must connect. It’s a lightning strike across his nerves, the immediate understanding of ~~look away~~ and ~~I can’t~~. He tries to avert his eyes, to close them, to do anything at all but his body just _won't listen_. Even the panic he should feel at that realization feels distant, as far away as the loud voices around them that sound a little like Tsuna’s head’s been dunked into water. And—

 _I can’t believe I’m gonna die because of Iemitsu._ ~~_I can’t believe it took this long_ _._ ~~

— everything fades.

* * *

53.

Tsuna blinks. He feels weird. That is to say he feels fine. But something about that strikes him as odd, as though maybe he _shouldn’t_. ~~Something is wrong~~.

Whatever. It’ll come to him sooner or later, the important things always do. Like that odd thing he’s noticed during Marshmallow Muffin’s conversation with Reborn that he can’t quite put his finger on, even though he knows it’s relevant.

For the time being, he’ll have to make do with what he knows: He’s fine. He’s not even tired, which is actually a little odd, now that he thinks about it. He can’t remember when he’s last gotten a proper night rest. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s sleeping right now? Tsuna has dreamed in startling detail about still being awake before. And he’s been under a lot of stress lately, what with acquiring a new stalker a day, everyday work at Vongola and taking care of Xanxus—

Tsuna ducks reflexively as the soup bowl shatters on the wall, painting it in the remains of the broth Xanxus has grown throughly sick off in the last few days — mostly because he still can’t stomach solid food and it’s visibly pissing him off. Suppressing an exasperated sigh — as terrifying as an angry Xanxus is, even Tsuna can only tremble before the man for so long before he gets used to it — Tsuna turns around. Xanxus is leaning against the doorframe ~~seeking support, he still has trouble staying upright on his own for too long~~ , both arms crossed over his chest, glowering. ~~Provoking a fight because that’s easier, because he’s spent years locked away and this is one thing he can still do, one thing that proves he’s alive~~.

Tsuna opens his mouth to scold him, when—

 _Shock_. But that doesn’t make sense, does it, why is he surprised? Tsuna’s been taking care of Xanxus for over a week by now. Hang on, that’s not right either, is it? Hasn’t it been longer?

 _Disbelief._ Something is wrong. Not just weird but straight up wrong. The kind Tsuna last felt when he tumbled over the edge during the battle in the mall. He’s not— Tsuna is surprised, is disbelieving but he shouldn’t be, should he? He already knows all of this. So why does his chest feel so warm? Why is there a trail of _hopehopehope_ unfurling in his chest that feels like its been suppressed for years, been drowned in bitterness and fear and rage, why does he—

Those aren’t his emotions. ~~Intruder~~.

Before Tsuna has fully grasped the realization, his surroundings already shift. Xanxus, the apartment, everything dissipates in black smoke and by the time the view clears, the only thing around him is a blank, white, endless floor stretching itself out in front of him under fluorescent lights. And a black, person-shaped spot two steps towards his left that seems vaguely familiar.

"I’m not dreaming," Tsuna says and it’s only when the words are spoken that he truly understands them. The floor trembles faintly beneath them, but it doesn’t crumble.

"Impressive." Mammon slowly turns their head. "But you cannot stop me, Tsunayoshi. I’m already inside, after all."

Their voice is expressionless, but this is Tsuna’s mind, his very core, and — ~~you don’t fool me~~ — he knows the only reason their voice is steady is because like everything about Mammon they cloak it in illusions. And they aren’t emotionless, are far from it because right now they are closer to the one thing they want above all else than they’ve been in eight long years and there is _nothing_ that will stop them from going further, no matter the cost, no matter the damage.

And Tsuna? Tsuna realizes with some surprise that he’s _not_ okay with that.

The floor trembles and as though the mere realization has been enough, Tsuna can feel the shift in the air as the landscape adjusts. The — unnaturally — brilliant white walls surrounding them are dripping with blood. And it’s not just the walls either, the floor is covered in it as well. In some parts are entirely drowning in a pool of blood, in other places, there are footprints and smears as though some sort of battle has taken place here, as though someone has already run.

It’s not just blood either. There’s bodies too. Most of them shadowed, their faces blanked out as though they are side-characters from a TV show that never even received a name. Others are not. One particular face — it’s only a head, the body has been dragged several feet away and even though Tsuna’s never been good with dead bodies and the mess bodily fluids and brain splatters make this one doesn’t bother him — stares up at Tsuna, eyes glazed, and even in death the man’s expression is one of stark terror. Next to the stranger, who’s face Tsuna doesn’t recognize even though there’s something niggling at him, something that says he _should_ , there is—

"You have a very disturbed mind," Mammon comments.

Tsuna blinks up at them from where he’s crouched down besides the stranger’s head without noticing. "I really don’t think I do. I’ve never seen this place before."

"…or you’re just an idiot."

Tsuna shrugs the comment — and it is said like an observation, not an insult — off. He’s been called worse. "Either way, you’re not welcome here," he says firmly and then Mammon is just gone. With that taken care of, Tsuna looks back down. Not at the man’s face this time, it’s what’s beside his head that’s drawn his attention.A bloody hand print right there on the floor, clearer than all the other half-smeared ones. Tsuna holds up his own hand in comparison and there’s no doubt about it. The entire hand print is barely the size of his own palm.

_A child._

Tsuna blinks and the corridor is gone. ~~Somewhere in the darkness, a little boy giggles~~.

* * *

54.

Four-year-old Tsuna stares with wide-eyed curiosity at the various animals surrounding them in the pet shop Nana has decided to stop by on the way home because their sick neighbor has run out of cat food.

"Kaasan?" he whispers from where he’s holding on to his mother’s leg. "Why are there so animals in boxes here?"

"So that people can look at them and decide if they want to take one of them home with them," Nana answers indulgently.

"Oh." Tsuna tilts his head. Contemplates this for a moment before — "Kaasan? Where are the boxes with little boys?"

"Silly Tsu-kun." Nana giggles in delight at her adorable son and ruffles his hair. "You can only buy pets, not children. Little boys don’t belong in boxes, Tsu-kun. They belong outside, running around freely and playing with their families and friends."

Tsuna scrunches up his nose in confusion, but the cashier comes back before he can ask and Tsuna hides his face behind his mother’s leg instead.

* * *

55.

"The fuck do you mean _he kicked you out_?!" The less than pleasant sound of Squalo’s shout — does this man even own an inside voice? — is the first thing Tsuna becomes aware of.

"His mind is protected." Out here, Mammon’s voice isn’t as deadpan as before. It shakes faintly, barely noticeable, and when Tsuna opens his eyes he catches the hand with which Mammon repositions their hood. ~~A nervous gesture~~. "I will not be able to enter again without invitation now that my mental presence has been marked as hostile."

"You’re the most powerful mental on this world and you’re fucking telling me Sawada’s useless kid has you stumped?"

Tsuna is still pinned against the wall by Squalo, but the man is too busy snarling at Mammon to pay him any mind. At least he’s not being choked. He has a feeling that for all that the usual super rules make an exception for him — usually in a bad way — his body doesn’t consider oxygen optional.

"The protection is old and powerful, anchored into his very subconsciousness. I can attack it, perhaps even break it, but not without breaking his mind. In all likelihood there is a dead man’s switch in place should that happen that will wipe his mind of all memories in the unlikely event that he survives the shock of it. It’s a waste of time and effort."

"You’ve dealt with mind traps before, darling," Lussuria interjects from where he’s still lounging on the couch. "What’s gotten you so freaked out about this one?"

"There’s other ways to make Vongola talk." Belphegor agrees. Only an instinctive jerk of his head saves Tsuna’s left ear from being impaled on a blade. A suspiciously familiar looking blade. "The Prince enjoys taking his time on special occasions. Some games shouldn’t be rushed."

And there’s the creepy giggling again.

"He knows where the boss is," Mammon states. An answer to Lussuria’s question perhaps or a distraction from the very same. Either way with those simple words the atmosphere is turned on its head. Violently. Because for a brief moment, everyone stills and then in the most terrible moment of unity all heads turn slowly towards Tsuna.

Great.

 _Don’t pass out_ , Tsuna reminds himself sternly. _Don’t pass out_. _Future murder victim or not, I’ve already wasted too much time here. Let’s just get it over with and then they can kill me or I can go to sleep. Either way I finally get some rest_.

Lussuria’s change is perhaps the most startling one because until Mammon’s announcement, he was at ease. Annoyed by Tsuna’s presence and disliked him on principle, but overall disinterested and almost human. The man that rises of the couch and takes a single very purposeful step into Tsuna’s direction is _anything_ but human. There’s a coldness in his eyes that Tsuna recognizes on a bone-deep level, has seen before many times on the faces of villains and heroes alike and—

It’s high time to put an end to this shit show.

Slowly, pointedly Tsuna raises his hands. As much as he can while still pinned to the wall by Superbia Squalo, who’s rediscovered his interest in Tsuna and is leaning in way too close, an unhinged grin on his lips that looks nothing like a smile should. "You’re going to tell us where the shitty boss is," he growls, still coming closer, damn it, causing Tsuna to try and climb further into the wall behind him that doesn’t budge at all, "or—"

"A-Alright."

There’s a pause as though Tsuna has missed two lines from a pre-written script and everyone has to adjust to it. [Tsuna is familiar with that sensation, it happens more often the larger the group of people he interacts with is.]

"Well, that was easy," Lussuria comments with an air of cheer that does nothing to soften the bloodthirsty edge to his smile. "Haven’t even gotten to the threatening part yet. Which is a pity. I don’t know about Squalo dear, but I’m feeling especially creative right now."

Tsuna does a full body-shudder at that. He really shouldn’t have read up on the Varia’s Vongola Inc.-sanctioned kills before coming here. What was he thinking?

"Ah, that- that won’t be necessary." With something that’s in equal parts terror beyond a level his mind can handle and a _fuck it all, just let me sleep_ attitude Tsuna fumbles through the words. "I-I mean that’s why I came? Xanxus-san is kind of-"

A hand slams down right beside Tsuna’s head, causing him to almost choke on his own squeak.

"WHERE IS HE?" Squalo bellows right into Tsuna’s face.

Glass shatters in the background and then there’s the unmistakable crack of a gunshot.

Tsuna keeps his eyes closed for a long moment as he draws in one shaky breath after another, waiting for the pain to hit. He doesn’t know why they’re shooting at him and he doesn’t know why everyone keeps yelling and he’s this close to an actual panic attack the likes of which he hasn’t had in years and—

"Boss?" someone says incredulously into the dead silence and Tsuna’s eyes snap open.

There, in the space behind the second couch, where a window used to be, stands Xanxus di Vongola. He’s wearing the jeans and sweatshirt from the emergency bag Tsuna left with him — the sweatshirt is a size too small around the shoulders, he’ll have to remember that next time he shops at a mall that isn’t attacked by supervillains — one hand clinging to the couch in front of him so tightly his knuckles are turning white —a clear indication that he’s exhausted himself again and it’s the only thing keeping him upright — the other is holding a gun that Tsuna definitely hasn’t provided him with.

Xanxus lowers the gun slowly from where he’s shot right over Squalo’s — and thus _Tsuna’s_ — head. Then he vaults himself over the couch like the overdramatic idiot he is and stalks straight towards Tsuna with murder in his eyes.

_I should’ve passed out when I had the chance._

* * *

56.

Tsuna sits on a couch. [He understands a little better why Lussuria didn’t bother getting up until he had to now, these things are comfortable.] He’s still trembling, hands clenched around the cup of tea Lussuria has pressed into his hands at some point — with honey, to soothe his still aching throat and a chirpy _careful darling, it’s still hot_ — and trying in vain to ignore the four supervillains fussing over Xanxus while Xanxus tries valiantly to murder them without actually killing them. Tsuna has begun to suspect that aggressive violence without deadly intent is Xanxus-speak for _I’ve missed you fuckers too_ but he sure as hell isn’t gonna say anything.

Xanxus hasn’t killed him so much as brained Squalo in the face with his gun, grabbed Tsuna by his neck, shaken him like some disobedient puppy, and plopped him down on the aforementioned couch, glowering at his minions all the while. But it’s very clear that the only reason Tsuna hasn’t received the lecture of all lectures is because Xanxus is physically incapable of it — and from the manic glint in his eyes and the un-good feeling in Tsuna’s stomach, he’s already making plans on how to get around that.

After another moment of shock and some very liberal cursing courtesy of Squalo, the living room had descended into chaos of the puppy pile kind when the Varia members had simultaneously decided to disregard Xanxus’ prickly _come at me I fucking dare you_ air — seriously, these people have less sense of self-preservation than he does, Tsuna didn’t even think that was possible — to jump the twitchy man and pull him into what from the outside looks to be a very violent group hug, bloody noses and bruised rips included.

Once the initial shock had worn off and it had become obvious that the only thing keeping Xanxus standing were rage and spite, Lussuria had bullied their boss into sitting down on his throne — _called it!_ — and started to flutter around him. It’s actually taken Tsuna a few minutes of observation to realize that Lussuria’s restless motions aren’t arbitrary. His gift hasn’t been recorded in the file. None of the Varia have officially admitted to anything, but everyone knows they have a capable healer among them and with the way the other members have stepped back to give Lussuria more room is its own statement. None of the others have gone far though, just linger awkwardly a few steps away. Tsuna can see Squalo’s fingers twitch from over here. So can Xanxus if the darkening look on his face is anything to go by.

Now that the initial shock and surprise have passed, the inevitable questions follow. Squalo in particular is a mess made up of loud demands on his shitty boss' previous whereabouts, what the fuck went wrong with the fucking plan, where he was kept, how the fuck the Ninth got the drop on him and what the fuck Xanxus was thinking going to the meet-up alone, occasionally intersected byLussuria’s gasps and horrified ' _What did they_ do _to you, boss?_ 's. His hands leave a soft, golden glow behind where they trail over Xanxus’ shoulders and down his chest that slowly sinks into the man’s skin.

It’s clearly doing some good because there’s tension seeping out of Xanxus’ frame that Tsuna wasn’t even aware isn’t part of the man’s natural posture. But he’s also getting agitated and no one has taken the gun away from him yet — which seems like a terrible oversight considering Xanxus’ temper — so Tsuna decides it’s probably time to speak up.

No one has tried to kill him since Xanxus has dumped him on the couch and maybe it will help pass time until the adrenaline has finally left his system and Tsuna can crash properly. On this couch. Because it’s just that comfortable and it’s his now. He’s never leaving it again, the Varia will just have to deal with that.

"He can’t speak," Tsuna says softly into a lull generated by Squalo finally cleaning up the crusted blood from the broken nose Xanxus has given him and Lussuria’s single-minded focus on Xanxus’ left hand, which is a bit more prone to muscle spasms than his right, from what Tsuna has observed over the past week. At once five swivel into his direction, one of them — said one being Xanxus — glaring furiously.

"They’ll need to know." Tsuna sends him an apologetic look but refuses to budge. He’s almost gotten killed by these madmen, their leader can deal with a little hurt pride.

Then Tsuna focuses his attention on Lussuria because one, he seems to be in charge of Xanxus’ recovery now and two, Xanxus’ face is reaching a level beyond murderous and Tsuna just knows he’ll lose his nerve if he looks at it for too long. "He was kept in a frozen state for the past eight years and it must have damaged his throat. I’m not a medic and I don’t have a doctor I could’ve trusted, so we haven’t been able to get a professional to look at it, but I’m pretty sure it needs treatment, regardless whether the damage can be healed or not. Xanxus-san hasn’t said anything, but I know it bothers him."

Xanxus growls darkly. There’s no missing the hoarse quality to it though and even though Lussuria immediately hands his boss a glass of water, urging him to drink, Tsuna doubts it will help much.

"Frozen you say?" Lussuria furrows his eyebrows and completely ignores the storm Squalo is cursing up at that particular revelation. "Are there any other after-effects that you’ve noticed, honey?"

"Err…" Tsuna wilts under the aura of bloody murder Xanxus exudes, but if Xanxus didn’t trust his men, he’d have already killed them. Or Tsuna himself for that matter. "There’s been some pretty intense muscle cramps and irregular seizures," Tsuna admits. "I don’t know what’s causing them though. If there’s anything else Xanxus-san hasn’t shared it with me."

"Hm." The furrow between Lussuria’s eyebrows deepens. "May I, boss?" He’s holding up his hands in front of Xanxus’ throat. Something passes between the two men that Tsuna doesn’t catch and then Xanxus nods in agreement.

He still flinches when Lussuria rests his hands on his throat though. Tsuna rubs his own absently in sympathy. It still aches. He’ll probably have bruises he won’t be able to explain at work and a scarf would only make it worse. Haru is firmly convinced that every scarf hides either embarrassing hickeys or evidence of an abusive relationship and that it is her business to figure out which one it is, no matter how strongly the person in question disagrees. Tsuna doesn’t want to know what a finger-shaped bruise around his throat would lead to, but it would probably involve HR, another self-defense course and a mandatory visit with his squad’s psychologist.

In the background, Squalo is still cursing the Vongola and Belphegor is doing an impressive job of pretending he doesn’t care and is solely focused on resharpening the previously thrown knife, safe for the odd glance he shoots into Xanxus’ direction every couple of minutes, as though subconsciously checking if he’s still there. Mammon hovers in the background, silent but all the more attentive for it. Tsuna is just glad he’s no longer the focus of that razor-sharp gaze.

Despite the broken window, which Squalo has already taped shut with well-practiced motions, the the room is comfortably warm and the combination of the sudden lack of tension — the _thankfuckinggodwefoundhim_ that permeates the very air — and the cackling of the still-burning fire slowly lures Tsuna to sleep.

* * *

57.

[He dreams of endless hallways bathed in bright neon lights, of playing hide and seek in a strange labyrinth that gains another layer for every step he takes towards the exit, of slipping in a pool of blood and being caught just in time, of Touchan pulling him into his arms and hugging him tightly. "You’re safe now, Tsu-kun," he promises and Tsuna hugs him back and doesn’t say ~~lie~~ even though the voice in his head tells him so.

The warmth of a thick blanket settles around him. Tsuna sighs, burrows himself deeper into the soft material. A gentle hand brushes through his hair.

"Sleep," a little boy tells him. "And don’t worry. I won’t let anyone touch you." ~~Truth~~.

Tsuna sleeps.]

Tsuna sleeps deep and restful and he doesn’t dream anything at all.

In the morning, he wakes to a thick, comfy blanket that covers him head to toe, the shrill sound of the fire alarm combined with Belphegor’s unholy laughter and Squalo's loud cursing because 'where is the shitty boss when you need him and how the fuck did you get burned eggs on the ceiling, shitty prince'.

* * *

58.

There’s something odd about Marshmallow Muffin that Tsuna struggles to put into words. [And it’s _not_ the note he apparently slipped Xanxus, reading ' _Tsu-chan is confronting some old friends of yours. If they kill him, I will drown you in liquid marshmallows and spread your body parts all over the city for them to find_ ’, complete with heart-dotted 'i’s and a smiley face at the end, though that raises questions as well.]

In his defense, there are lots of odd things about Marshmallow Muffin, not the least of it being his baffling insistence on being Tsuna’s BFF. It makes what is bothering Tsuna even harder to pin down because it’s so easy to get distracted by Marshmallow Muffin’s crazy antics, ridiculous behavior and baffling habits.

Maybe it’s the fact that the category on his file says 'supervillain', which is definitely unusual. ~~Not to mention wrong~~. Standard procedure for a super’s category is to leave it blank, unless the super in question willingly provides his alignment test result and the Trinisette Institute confirms them. Because there’s a difference between being a supervillain in the field — which means an opponent, a troublemaker, a criminal, a terrorist, depending on the severity of the attack — and being _classified_ as a supervillain.

[A super’s alignment is private. Even convicted mass murderers can’t be forced to reveal their alignment — mostly because, as the Super Human Rights Alliance had successfully argued before the European Super Court in 1976 — because a person’s alignment is irrelevant from a juridical point of view. An alignment doesn’t make a super more or less capable of recognizing the law, no more or less guilty for breaking them and should not affect the punishment either.

For that matter, some of the worst attacks have been caused by known and tested superheroes. They still went down in history as supervillains, even if their alignments were common knowledge. Privately, Tsuna doesn’t understand why the classification system doesn’t use other terms to avoid precisely this confusion between _biological_ supervillains and _social_ supervillains — Hana can rant on about the distinction forever when someone sets her off, one of these days she’s going to shred her Vongola Inc. employee card and spearhead a social revolution instead — but the politics around supers always give him a headache. ~~Not to mention the thought that supers were not legally considered human beings with actual rights until sometime in the late nineteen-sixties is a terrifying concept to consider even with copious amounts of alcohol, never mind sober~~.]

Sometimes though his squad doesn’t bother with that. Sometimes — for no discernible reason — certain of their opponents are classified as supervillains. Tsuna has never understood that and he doesn’t understand it now either.

Marshmallow Muffin hasn’t been that much worse than any other run of the mill villain they’ve encountered. Less actually because it’s not like he killed anyone. Okay, he’s got a slightly concerning obsession with Tsuna and more power than can be good for the world, considering how easily he kicked Tsuna’s squad around that playground, but it’s not like he has used that power for anything overly evil since.

Maybe that’s why the assignation bothers Tsuna so much. ~~Maybe it’s because he knows he’s missing something important~~.

[Maybe it’s that deep down Tsuna knows that Marshmallow Muffin is the most dangerous person he’s ever met. Not because he’s powerful, not because Tsuna can see the blood on his hands. Not even because he’s brilliant and bored and terribly apathetic towards the world whenever it fails to amuse him. It’s because ~~unlike Skull and even Reborn who have never stopped yearning for something they don’t allow themselves to have~~ , ~~unlike the Varia who have fought and bleed and grieved for what they’ve lost but never stopped seeking it~~ , ~~unlike Chikusa who is so convinced he has found everything he wants in a man who cannot be all he needs~~ , Marshmallow Muffin has all the home he could ever need. And he still wants _more_.]

* * *

59.

Eating breakfast with other people is an odd experience. Eating breakfast with five sixth of the Varia is an experience all by itself.

For one thing, by the time Tsuna has convinced himself to abandon is cozy blanket to check for survivors form what sounds like an all-out battle in the kitchen — not to mention the fire — Xanxus has gotten up as well. He looks much better, has probably made more progress in this one night than all the days since he first woke up, which Tsuna cautiously credits to Lussuria’s unidentified healing gift. And perhaps the mental aspect of being welcomed back with open arms into his self-made family.

He really should’ve convinced Xanxus to come here a week ago, it would’ve saved him so much worry and Xanxus so much brooding.

Xanxus must be feeling a lot more energized than usual in the morning as well because he literally kicks Squalo and Belphegor out of the kitchen — Tsuna only just steps out of the way in time to avoid being bowled over by the delightedly screeching prince — and starts preparing breakfast with an impressive, though by no means genuinely furious scowl.

Tsuna blinks in surprise when Xanxus gestures sharply towards the small kitchen table in the corner with two barstools, but hesitantly pats inside and sits down. By the time Lussuria floats into the kitchen, wearing a skin-tight black dress that flares out below his hips and reaches down to the floor and proceeds to prepare tea — one hand tracing over Xanxus’ shoulders in an almost absent-minded motion if not for the brief hesitation before Xanxus inclines his head just slightly in acceptance and the warm glow that follows the touch — the kitchen smells like freshly baked bread and un-burned eggs.

Squalo returns with an assortment of fresh fruit and croissants from somewhere right around the time as Xanxus pulls the self-made bread buns out of the oven, cursing under his breath about useless shitty princes. Said shitty prince gets smacked over the head by Xanxus — and it’s not a gentle smack, apparently moderating your strength when hitting colleagues isn’t done in the Varia — when he tries to sneak one of the bread buns. Overall, it’s an absurdly domestic scene and Tsuna is sixty-five percent sure someone has drugged his tea.

Probably Lussuria.

He’s the one who joins Tsuna at the table on the second barstool. It’s around that time that it occurs to Tsuna that there’s nowhere else to sit — safe for Xanxus, apparently, because in that moment Squalo drags the throne-chair from the living room into the kitchen. Which. Tsuna would blame typical super-related dramatics exacerbated by Varia eccentrics for that, but despite Xanxus’ apparent energy he’s far from recovered, so it’s like for the best if he sits in a chair with backrest.

Tsuna opens his mouth to offer Belphegor his seat when the other man steps into the kitchen, but before he gets the chance to do so Xanxus slams a plate with two bread buns, a croissant and some fruit down in front of him with enough force it’s a miracle the ceramic doesn’t break. Tsuna startles so hard, he would’ve slipped straight off the stool if Xanxus hadn’t caught him by the neck, pulled him upright again and glowered down at him.

"T-Thank you?" Tsuna asks hesitantly. Xanxus sneers, but the glower loses some of its intensity.

"Aww, boss has made a new friend!" Lussuria exclaims with a hand pressed over his heart and a look on his face that wouldn’t be out of place on a true romantic faced with a Disney dream couple. "Aren’t you two just made of sugar."

"Boss and Sawada, sitting in a tree," Belphegor, who is leaning against the kitchen counter, singsongs off-key.

Xanxus sets down a cup of tea in front of Tsuna with about the same amount of care he’d shown the plate and grabs Lussuria’s own cup in a motion so fast, it blurs a little to Tsuna’s eyes. [Super speed has never been a strength of his.]

"K-I-S-S—" Belphegor ducks, but Xanxus must have anticipated that because Lussuria’s cup nails him straight in the forehead, dripping tea all over the man’s front. Instead of being bothered by the entire thing like a normal person, Belphegor simply stands there, giggling madly into his wet bread bun.

Lussuria doesn’t raise an eyebrow either, just pouts at Xanxus and gets up to fix himself another cup.

"VOI, SHITTY BOSS!" Squalo, who has somehow missed most of the drama by virtue of being in the bathroom and only entered the kitchen in time to watch Xanxus throw tea at Belphegor, yells. "WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM?"

It probably says bad things about Tsuna’s mental state that Squalo is starting to look like the only sane occupant in this house. Having Lussuria tussle his hair and tell him, "Eat up, buttercup, you’re looking far too skinny for it to be healthy," doesn’t help at all. Neither does the odd, warm feeling the gentle touch sends through him.

* * *

60.

This may be the oddest day in my life, Tsuna thinks somewhat incredulously from where he’s once again stretched out on the ridiculously comfortable couch the Varia apparently favor, watching Belphegor and Mammon bicker over Monopoly. [It seems like a stupid game to play with a bloodthirsty genius and money-obsessed miser, which is why Tsuna politely declined when Belphegor tried to drag him into it like a spoiled kid making away with another child’s new toy.]

And by _bicker_ he means that half the cards have been ripped to shreds during Belphegor’s first — but by no means last — temper-tantrum and Mammon’s dark close has become increasingly blacker over the last half an hour. They’re starting to look more like a grim reaper than a shady traveler now and Tsuna’s gut tells him that’s not a good thing.

Neither Xanxus nor Lussuria or Squalo seem concerned, but they also didn’t seem concerned when Belphegor saw his princely honor insulted by the carpet he’d tripped over — Tsuna is pretty sure Squalo had something to do with that, he looked way too satisfied not to, but he’s not suicidal enough to say something — and tried to burn the entire thing — and with it probably the house — down. Tsuna has hence decided that no one in this house is right in the head and the Varia’s collective judgement cannot be trusted under any circumstances.

That’s also why he’s keeping a careful eye on the game — to take cover behind the couch as quickly as possible when [not if] it proves necessary.

Despite the continued threat of another violent outbreak, overall the morning has passed weirdly peaceful. He’s been fed, Lussuria has chatted with him a little to learn more about Xanxus’ seizures and no one has bound him to a chair or choked him — something Tsuna has learned not to take for granted in the present company.

Now, Tsuna might be stupid, but he’s not completely clueless. He’s well aware that he’s been kidnapped. In a fashion of the word, considering Tsuna was the one to walk up to the Varia’s stronghold and knock on their door. But clearly leaving is not an option. Someone has also gone through his bag, both his phone and laptop are missing.

[Probably hidden in a safe that blocks outgoing signals or dropped off at a burn location. Destroying a Vongola Inc. issued tech piece sets off all kinds of alarms and transmits the last available coordinates the device recorded straight to Headquarters, a security measure the Varia must be aware of, what with how closely they’ve worked with Vongola Inc. during the last years. There’s nothing of value on either device and Tsuna’s personal phone is still at home where he forgot it yesterday morning, which is why he can’t be bothered to make a fuss.]

But since no one has come out and said it to his face just yet — or locked him into a creepy dungeon — Tsuna sees no reason to shatter the illusion. Right now, the Varia are — dare he say it — hospitable [ ~~likely because he brought them their boss back~~ ]. Tsuna has already gotten a taste of how quickly their mood can shift, he’s in no hurry to see it again. Besides it’s Saturday. The only person missing him might be the Arcobaleno Reborn, in case Marshmallow Muffin hasn’t driven him off entirely, but Tsuna will deal with that problem when he’s confronted by Reborn about his suspicious absence and not a moment before.

So, all in all Tsuna sees no reason why he shouldn’t enjoy the comfortable couch while it lasts. He may even get an early afternoon nap out of it. Tsuna can’t remember the last time he’s gotten this much sleep.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise when, just as Tsuna has found the perfect position to sink deeper into the wondrously soft pillows, Lussuria’s head jerks around. Not something that should’ve drawn Tsuna’s attention, what with the ongoing, one-sided screaming match between Belphegor and Mammon, but it _does_ and Tsuna is stumbling to his feet before the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach registers.

Xanxus visibly grits his teeth, hands clenching around the armrest of his chair. But Tsuna knows from experience that that won’t last long.

"Lie onto the ground now!" he snaps without thinking because even though Xanxus might believe he can ride this one out, Tsuna _knows_ he won’t. This is another seizure and it’s gonna be a hard one.

Maybe Tsuna isn’t the only one of the two who’s gotten used to reading facial expressions because Xanxus doesn’t protest, just slides off the chair and lies down flat on the back, teeth grinding against each other. His entire body trembles. Tsuna kneels down right by Xanxus’ head and places both his hands on the sides of the man’s face. The not-fire works better when it’s applied closely to Xanxus’ head or heart, but his trashing makes it too difficult for Tsuna too keep a hold of his other body when he already has to focus on applying the not-flames.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Squalo snaps from somewhere to Tsuna’s left. At least he isn’t shouting.

"It’s a seizure," Tsuna says grimly. "Lussuria, can you fix this? I can ease the symptoms, but that’s of no help if we don’t figure out the cause."

"I don’t think so." Lussuria’s hands are pulsing where they’re resting on Xanxus’ chest, the glow almost blinding in comparison to the previous applications.

"The hell? What kind of shitty healer are you?"

"It’s not a fucking injury!" Lussuria snarls, eyes closed in concentration. "His body is fine, there’s no physical cause or anomaly that should be causing this—"

One of Xanxus’ legs kicks out uncontrollably. The shaking is intensifying. Tsuna doesn’t say that there has to be something wrong, it’s obvious and won’t help.

"The only thing I can detect that’s even slightly unusual is some sort of internal imbalance." Lussuria’s frown deepens. "It’s not physical though and it’s not something I can heal."

Damn it. Damn it all and that stupid not-ice besides.

"I’m gonna do what I usually do then. Keep your hands on him, please, and see if you can follow the process, maybe then you can learn to copy it or something." Tsuna grits his teeth. "Fair warning, I’ve never done this with anyone except me touching him. If it causes you pain or disturbs the process, let go immediately."

Tsuna doesn’t wait for Lussuria’s nod, doesn’t pay attention to the peanut gallery that’s shouting questions and demands from the sidelines. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, finds the pulsing warmth inside his quest and breathes not-fire back out.

The light of the not-flames makes Lussuria’s eyes glow in an unnatural golden hue, but otherwise it doesn’t seem to affect him, safe for a small flinch at first contact. Tsuna doesn’t pay any more attention to the man though, he has to focus on enveloping Xanxus’ by now uncontrollably twitching body in its entirety, to coax tension from muscles that shouldn’t be there, to sink into the Xanxus’ body and spread the warmth.

[ ~~Remember this; you are alive.~~ ]

It takes ten minutes for the seizure to pass. Tsuna keeps the not-fire going for an additional five minutes in case it helps before he runs out of energy and lets the not-flame splutter out. He keeps his hands on Xanxus’ face though, just in case the attack isn’t over yet. He’s been too optimistic before.

When Xanxus — who knows the drill — doesn’t twitch, Tsuna slowly exhales and allows the tension to ease out of his lungs.

"These are the seizures you were talking about?" Lussuria demands in a low voice eerily similar to the one he used the other day when threatening Tsuna. This time Tsuna isn’t the object of his ire, but that doesn’t make the sudden sharpness to the otherwise affable man less dangerous. It serves as a heavy reminder that flamboyant nature and insistence to pile Tsuna with food and warm tea or not, Lussuria is first and foremost a killer.

"Yes." Tsuna lowers his hands from Xanxus’ cheeks but doesn’t scoop back just yet. "I’m pretty sure they’re a long-term consequence of the containment that was used on Xanxus. You’re sure there isn’t a physical cause for this?"

Lussuria shakes his head before he’s finished the question. "No, hon. I know Boss’ body better than most and it’s not in top shape, he’ll need to slowly build up most of his strength and endurance, but there’s nothing that would explain these fits." Not that Tsuna is surprised, a straight-forward physical issue would’ve been too easy. [Not that healing gifts can fix everything, but at least they would’ve known what the problem was and could take steps to handle it.] "You said Boss was frozen, do you know how it was done?"

At that, Xanxus is clearly done with being babied. He pushes Lussuria’s hands away and sits up, even growls at Squalo when he reaches down to help steady him.

Tsuna grimaces. "An untested procedure accomplished with the gift of the Ninth, at least that’s what the file said." He shoots an apologetic glance at Xanxus who does an admirable job of pretending not to notice. He’s rubbing his fingers though, a habit Tsuna has caught more and more often over the past two weeks. ~~A reminder that he can move perhaps, and Kami if the thought doesn’t make Tsuna’s blood boil~~. "Either Vongola didn’t record any more details for security purposes or they don’t know any more details themselves. It’s likely that Xanxus-san was the first test subject — the first recorded one at least."

"Fucking Vongola!" Belphegor spits out, two daggers spinning in his hands at a dizzying pace. "The Prince will _drown them_ in their own blood for this!"

He doesn’t shout, doesn’t scream and there’s no sign of his crazy cackling either, just a quiet intensity, a _cold, cold, burning cold_ rage that had years to grow in the shadow of fear and hatred, that gives the words a weight Tsuna really wishes they’d never gain, no matter how deserved or not such a fate might be. He opens his mouth, perhaps to distract Belphegor, perhaps to ask Lussuria if he’s noticed anything interesting about the effect of Tsuna’s not-fire on Xanxus’ body, when his eye catches on the sparks between Belphegor’s fingertips, almost invisible among the glints of the dancing blades and Tsuna loses his train of thought.

Because _that spark_. That spark looks familiar. Kind of like— ~~The glitter in Marshmallow Muffin’s smile~~. ~~The glint in Reborn’s shadowed eyes~~. ~~The electricity in Skull’s purple hair when the supervillain _snapped_~~.

"What’s that?" Tsuna points at Belphegor’s hands and quickly withdraws his own when Belphegor darts out with one of his daggers as though to cut it — slow enough that Tsuna manages to avoid the blade though. ~~A warning~~.

"Even a peasant should recognize the knife that will gut him if he missteps."

"No, the sparks." Tsuna’s gaze is still fixed on Belphegor’s hand. "I mean the sparks between your fingers. What kind of energy is that?"

There’s a moment of very, very silent silence. The kind that tells Tsuna he’s missing something big, has misstepped somewhere, hasn’t picked up on a clue that anyone else would have. It’s an uncomfortable realization. Unfortunately, Tsuna is used to it.

"Are you referring to Belphegor’s Killing Intent?" Mammon, who hasn’t spoken up once until now, asks slowly.

Tsuna blinks. "Is that Varia-speak for 'resting murder face'?"

He barely avoids the throwing knife this time.

* * *

61.

Tsuna is back in the hidden room. The one Touchan brings him to every weekend with the big window to the other room, where people sit. Tsuna isn’t allowed in that other room though, which is stupid. Ever since that first man most people have just been ignoring him all day. Some shout or say bad words or make funny faces, but most — like the woman currently sitting inside the other room — are just so boring.

Tsuna kicks his feet back and forth. He’s been looking at the woman _forever_ and she still hasn’t done anything. Tsuna knows it’s important, Touchan says he has to look really, really hard and then before they go home he has to tell Touchan what he’s seen. What’s special about the woman.

But there’s nothing special about the woman and Tsuna is hungry. And bored.

So instead of staying put, Tsuna does what any four year old with an uncanny instinct for avoiding the guards patrolling the hallways would do — he promises the boring lady he will be back and runs off to get an apple from the nice cafeteria cashier. Maybe even two.

Tsuna bets the boy with the pretty eyes is hungry too.

* * *

62.

So. It turns out when his squad members — and his high school professors, now that Tsuna thinks about it — talked about 'killing intent' they weren’t being dramatic or allusive, they actually meant that literal. Who’d have thought? Apparently strong supervillains can wield their intent to kill to harm those around them and Tsuna has just— never noticed.

How embarrassing.

He still doesn’t feel any different when Belphegor, offended at the thought of a weak little peasant being unimpressed by his killing intent, increases said supposed aura of doom. At least Tsuna assumes he does so from the way everyone is watching him and Mammon starts to shift uncomfortably. The sparks between Belphegor’s fingertips increase as well, which is much more interesting than Tsuna’s deficiency in picking up on another super’s desire to harm him. At least in Tsuna’s opinion. From the furious pout on Belphegor’s lips, Xanxus’s snow-white face and everyone else’s slack-jawed expressions, they don’t agree.

Hold on.

Tsuna’s gaze snaps back to Xanxus, who looks like he might pass out any moment. Or go into cardiac arrest. Or is experiencing a panic attack.

"Stop!"

Maybe it’s the commanding tone that really, really doesn’t suit Tsuna, maybe it’s the fact that he’s staring at Xanxus when he does so, but miracle of all miracles, Belphegor drops the focused expression and just like that the sparks between his fingertips dim and die.

"Boss?" Lussuria sounds more than worried. "You’ve never minded Bel’s Killing Intent before."

It’s like the last piece of a puzzle, one that Tsuna didn’t even know his mind was working on in the background, is right there for him to grasp if only he stretches his hands out and _takes it_.

"What does it do?" Tsuna looks at Mammon first, then at all the other assembled supervillains. "This killing intent, what does it _do_?"

"It’s used as a demoralization tool mostly." Mammon shrugs, the motion barely perceivable. "It pushes humans into a flight or fight response, disrupts rational thought, spreads panic."

"But it can also physically affect people, right?" Tsuna thinks back to the inglorious end of his squad’s battle with Marshmallow Muffin.

"People, especially civilians and high-scoring superheroes, are vulnerable to Killing Intent," Lussuria chimes in, one hand still on Xanxus’ upper arm, glowing like the midday sun. "Supposedly it’s even possible to kill someone by overwhelming them with Killing Intent to the point that their body shuts down, but I’ve never seen it happen. Usually people just pass out. But even in such an extreme case, it’s not the Killing Intent that kills them, it’s their own physical reaction to it. They’re literally frightened to death."

Tsuna tilts his head, not sure what is niggling at him. "And any supervillain can use it?" It’s probably a stupid question but Tsuna has never considered killing intent a viable weapon, he’s always assumed people were just talking about an evil aura of batshit crazy murderers and with the shit supervillains get up to on a daily basis, can anyone really blame him?

"In theory yes." Lussuria clicks his tongue. "But the higher on the villain scale a person places the stronger it is. KI can also be trained, both to suppress it and to field it actively. And like most emotion-based gifts, its strength ultimately depends on the willpower and emotion the wielder pours into it."

Tsuna’s eyes narrow further as he absently picks his sleeve. "You said high-scoring heroes are especially vulnerable." There’s something obvious he’s missing here, something that’s staring him right in the face, probably sticking its tongue out as it does so.

"Pretty much." Lussuria shrugs. "It’s considered further proof that heroes and villains are each other’s antithesis or even achilles’ heel."

"It’s a stupid cheat." Squalo adds with an unexpected sneer. "Takes all the fun out of a proper fight."

"Alright, what’s the secret superhero ability then?" Tsuna asks. He already has resigned himself to the fact that there’s probably a world-saving aura or something similarly ridiculous that his entire squad has been employing from the get-go and he hasn’t. Probably further validating his own position as the useless add-on.

That the question has the villains surrounding him exchange loaded looks doesn’t exactly make Tsuna feel any better about himself. "Ah, I’m sorry, darling." Lussuria smiles weakly. "Until recently I was under the assumption that there is no equivalent superhero ability."

The answer doesn’t bring the relief it should — mostly because there’s a seedling of suspicion uncoiling in Tsuna’s subconsciousness. "How recently?"

"Let me ask you something, Tsunayoshi-kun," Lussuria counters with an undertone Tsuna can’t pinpoint. "What did you think of when you lit those flames?"

* * *

63.

Tsuna can’t sleep. And it’s not because he’s being held hostage by the Varia, oddly enough. The bed is comfortable, he’s got his cozy blanket back, they’ve feed him well and no one has locked the door behind him. Granted that doesn’t inspire any confidence in Tsuna’s ability to get away from five well-trained assassins, but since he doesn’t have any run-away plans at the moment, that issue can be tabled for another day. Like tomorrow evening because Monday morning Tsuna’s disappearance will be noticed by Vongola Inc. and he’s pretty sure attention is the last thing the Varia need right now.

Not with Xanxus’ continued seizures despite his otherwise encouraging recovery.

No, Tsuna’s restless mind has nothing to do with the Varia and everything to do with that stupid killing intent supervillains are apparently capable of. It’s not the fact that Tsuna apparently hasn’t noticed a fundamental characteristic of supervillains through his entire life that’s thrown him off [though it doesn’t help] so much as the simple fact that nothing about killing intent makes sense.

Why would all supervillains be equipped with an ability that superheroes are helpless to defend themselves against? More importantly, if the balance really was tipped so far in the villains’ favor, how come heroes even survived for as long? How come Vongola Inc. and other, less well-known superhero organizations haven’t fallen decades ago?

[ ~~If you’d build a kill-switch into your creation, wouldn’t you equip both versions with one?~~ ]

There’s no way to differentiate between superheroes and supervillains, that’s what everyone always says. Yet clearly there _is_ because the mere fact that supervillains can send out some kind of energy that makes other people’s bodies shut down without similarly affecting their own kind [if you assume they don’t have any biological heroes on the team] points towards clear physiological differences.

And maybe that doesn’t matter — What does Tsuna care? He’s never had issues with killing intent, why should that change now that he knows it exists? — but he does because _it matters_. Not for him, not really. Not because of the not-fire he can ignite, no matter how interested the Varia had been in it.

Lussuria has confirmed that the not-fire hasn’t burned him, but apparently it had been uncomfortable. ~~It probably could’ve hurt him, if Tsuna had intended to do so~~. When asked, Xanxus has confirmed that he doesn’t have the same issue, though he’s refused to explain how the sensation of being encompassed in Tsuan’s not-fire feels to him. [ _Uncooperative jackass_. Tsuna gets that jotting down notes to avoid aggravating his throat — Lussuria isn’t sure yet if the damage there can be fixed — is annoying, but that’s hardly their fault.]

To Tsuna’s utter lack of surprise, none of the Varia had commented on that. He’s suspected they know the truth, even if he doubts anyone else does. Safe perhaps the Ninth and even there it’s a fifty-fifty toss-up.

Of course there’s always the chance that the not-fire was driven by Tsuna’s desire to help Xanxus, turning it into what he wanted it to be, but there’s a very real possibility that Xanxus’ own physiology played a role as well. [ ~~After all, Tsuna wasn’t the only superhero in that room.~~ ] Then there’s Xanxus’ recently discovered lack of tolerance for killing intent. It’s possible that this, like all his physical muscles, needs to be built up again after eight long years of not training it. That. Or.

[ ~~Killing _intent_ they call it. But what if you don’t want to _kill_?~~]

Something cold settles in Tsuna’s stomach as yet another puzzle piece slides into place. The image isn’t complete yet, far from it, there’s too many questions, too many facts that don’t fit, but. On occasion, even an incomplete insight can give you the answer you seek.

[Most people pass out, Lussuria said, and supposedly one can even kill them. And in between? If you pushed further, not for death, just a little further… Could you trap someone in their own mind? In a clinical coma? In a _stasis_?

 ~~If he’d let Belphegor continue for a little while longer, would those sparks have crystallized and frozen to ice?~~ ]

* * *

63.

Tsuna’s inability to pick up on Killing Intent is easily confirmed. Iemitsu runs the test with several supervillains at varying intensity, though it is hard to match Daemon’s level of pure malice, but the result remains the same: Tsuna’s 'sixth' sense for identifying villains is nonexistent.

Another father might have given up. [Might have even been relieved to know his son wouldn’t be drawn into the unavoidably violent world of super-wars between warring fractions of heroes and villains.] There is no way to teach Tsuna to feel Killing Intent any more than there is a way to teach a blind person to use their eyes — but humans are adaptable creatures and ingenious when properly motivated and very few goals can only be reached through one single path.

The main value of sensing Killing Intent lies in identifying the truly strong, truly dangerous supervillains. Some of them might be capable of suppressing their intent, but too many are not and the knowledge whom to watch out for and where they are moving even when other senses have been fooled by illusions has saved Iemitsu’s own life in the field an untold number of times. [Because Killing Intent cannot be falsified and its sense cannot be clouded. Once one has built up the resistance Vongola operatives are known for, a clear sense of Killing Intent is what separates good from excellent operatives.]

All the training in the word cannot compensate for an instinct like that, only help to try and even out the gap. Iemitsu does not want that kind of life for his son — always a struggle to catch up, always two steps behind everyone else — and so he starts to look into alternative options. Other ways to teach little Tsuna how to pick up the strongest opponents in a room, how to separate the regular supervillains from the ones capable of burning a sizable part of the world to the ground.

And because Iemitsu is a Sawada, because his family’s bloodline gift is as strong in him as in every one of his forefathers, he realizes that his son shares that very same talent, as strong as any Sawada before him, and so Iemitsu also starts to think something like this: _Perhaps his Hyper Intuition can be trained_.

* * *

64.

After breakfast, during which Tsuna has eaten everything Xanxus has slapped on his plate, even though he hasn’t tasted a single bite because the man’s glare is a force of nature, Tsuna stumbles back into the living room and falls face down onto his favorite couch. He feels like he hasn’t slept more than an hour last night, even though he knows that’s not quite true. His brain still feels tired though.

All the more so because it still won’t _shut up_. If Tsuna is right — and unfortunately he has a very persistent gut feeling pulling him down this train of thought — and Xanxus has been locked into a solidified form of killing intent for eight years, then it’s not just a miracle that the guy is half-way sane. It also becomes very likely that the imbalance Lussuria has noted but sworn isn’t physical is related to the very energy that killing intent and whatever Tsuna’s not-fire are is based on.

If Xanxus’ body has been surrounded [ ~~trapped~~ ] by the _wrong_ kind of energy for eight years, could it have fucked up his own internal system? Should it run on the same energy that creates Tsuna’s not-fire? Is that why it helps alleviate the seizures? Even if it does though, Tsuna can’t surround Xanxus in his own not-fire for eight years to turn this whole shit show around. How are they going to fix this?

Tsuna groans. All these thoughts make his head hurt. He doesn’t know enough about this, doesn’t even really understand killing intent and probably never will, thanks to whatever it is that everyone else has and he lacks.

But. Maybe there’s someone he can ask. Someone who must know more about killing intent and how it really works than the Varia clearly do. [After all — ~~Marshmallow Muffin wields a power that should harm him as much if not more than those around him and he makes it look _natural_~~ — what are BFFs for? _Urgh, this is gonna be such a pain_.]

Someone is standing next to the couch. Tsuna wouldn’t have noticed, too occupied burying his face deeper in the cushions in a vain hope of escaping his own thoughts, had they not cleared their throat. Pointedly.

With a soul-deep sigh, Tsuna rolls onto his back — and almost off the couch — and blinks up at—

"Mammon? Err, can I help you?"

The supervillain with the hidden face and unknown identity is just about the last person Tsuna expected.

Mammon tilts their head. "We owe you for freeing our boss and bringing him back," they state matter-of-fact. "We will follow Boss’ lead concerning the official Varia response, but each of us owes you a personal debt, independent of business."

It takes a moment for Tsuna to parse through that, mostly because he can’t believe that the people who are holding him hostage apparently owe him for being a decent human being and doing the bare minimum of not tolerating a containment practice that likely only isn’t outlawed because its existence isn’t known.

There’s a very persistent mental image of Xanxus handing over a bunch of two-for-one Varia assassination coupons that probably shouldn’t make Tsuna cackle. His humor really has gone downhill lately — along with his sanity and a healthy sleep schedule.

"Okay?" Tsuna says hesitantly when it becomes clear that Mammon is expecting a response. "I mean, you’re welcome of course," there hadn’t been an actual thank you in the announcement, but Tsuna figures it’s very much implied, "but you really don’t owe me anything. It’s not like I did it for you."

"Irrelevant." Mammon’s voice is sharp. "Regardless of your intentions, I will naturally feel disinclined to refuse a future request from you. This is unacceptable, therefore you will acknowledge an official debt between us that is to be repaid with one — and only one — free favor by me."

Tsuna can’t picture a situation in which he would ever need the Varia’s infamous mental’s personal touch, but if it makes them feel better, where’s the harm in it?

"Sure," he agrees. And when Mammon makes no move to leave, "I- uhm, I acknowledge the debt between us. I guess."

Mammon still doesn’t leave. Tsuna stares blankly up at the blackness where their face must be. "Is there something else?"

Mammon huffs. Audible. If they were any less composed, Tsuna suspects they would be pinching their nose. "I _dislike_ debts," they say in a way that makes clear they do not consider 'dislike' a strong enough feeling to convey the emotion they’re feeling. "What favor would you like to call in?"

"What _now_?!"

If an invisible face is capable of giving Tsuna a deadpan stare, Mammon manages it. "Time is money and I’m already wasting more than I’d grant anyone else with this fairly pointless conversation."

"I’m sorry, but I don’t really need anything." Tsuna shrugs, a little helpless.

"There’s no one you want dead? Living in terror for the rest of their pathetic life? Grant nice dreams full of unicorns and rainbows until the day they die?"

"Can you really do that last one?" Tsuna asks curiously. With Mammon’s flat voice it’s hard to tell if they’re serious.

"No."

"Uhm, okay. No, to all of the above though."

This time Mammon does sigh. Deeply. "How about I take care of those memory blockers in your mind then?"

"My _what_?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Squalo: I’m gonna choke the life out of you until you tell us where the shitty boss is!!  
> Tsuna: Sounds about right
> 
> *two minutes later*  
> Xanxus: Eat your fucking vitamins trash!  
> Tsuna: There is something seriously fucked up about this
> 
> Last chapter we bore witness to the wonders of Byakuran’s aggressive befriending campaign. This chapter I give you Xanxus’ aggressive mother-henning. You’re welcome.  
> In other news, this chapter was an absolute monster, but I hope you enjoyed it! [And no, I did not forget about Levi. He's on a mission right now. Mostly because I just don't think it's particularly likely that all Varia sit in the same safehouse at the same time and a little because Levi would have seriously killed Tsuna. Even mentioning Xanxus' name in his vicinity can be deadly and Levi would've likely recognized Tsuna and felt personally betrayed. Which. Not good, abort mission right the fuck now- You get the picture.]  
> I'd love to hear your thoughts about this chapter, so if you have the time, please let me know what you think in a comment! Questions are also welcome as always, though if they'll be answered in the next two chapters I may decide not to spoil the surprise - or I may decide to spoil it. So ask questions at your own risk ;)  
> I hope you all started safe and well into the new year and wish you a wonderful weekend!


	7. Close Proximity To Trigger-Happy Supervillains Has Yet To Cure Local Cinnamon Roll’s Anxiety, Recent Study Reveals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna goes down the traditional supervillain path of denial and Byakuran is unimpressed by everyone’s lack of regard for how their actions affect his BFF’s mental health as well as the quality time Tsuna spends with Byakuran. The latter being the more serious offense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Tsuna's mind is a dark place. Everyone has dubious morals. People die in very gory if not particularly descriptive ways. Unhealthy coping-mechanisms. If you have any concerns, message me.

65.

As the only child of a high-ranking Vongola Inc. operative — who had a ten year long active career in the field that included many successful missions and at least double the enemies even before he became the ninth CEO’s right hand — Tsuna has been trained in how to handle kidnapping attempts since he was old enough to go to school. Alright, 'trained' might be a slight exaggeration. He’s gone through a one week training course the summer before his first year at school and been at the yearly refresher weekend ever since. It’s kinda fun, even if Tsuna sucks terribly at the physical things.

They’ve mostly learned what numbers to call in an emergency, how to draw attention to themselves and how to get out of various holds. There’d been some practice session in how to behave if they have been kidnapped too — mostly to sit tight, stay calm and obey their kidnappers and remember the secret codes in case the kidnappers would let them use a phone or make a video of some sort — and once they’d gotten older there had also been more serious conversations about the kind of threats they could face, how to ration food and how they had the right to psychological support at any time, Vongola Inc. would cover the cost and there was absolutely no shame in needing help to work through a scary encounter.

[Their teachers have been very insistent on that last part. Hana-chan — a girl close to Tsuna’s age whose mother is high up in the Vongola’s legal department — had even started a lively debate about the prejudice concerning mental health issues. Most of it had gone straight over Tsuna’s head, but it had still been fun to listen. Hana-chan was usually focused and intense to a terrifying degree, but she’d been so passionate about this topic that she’d pulled the entire group with her. It had been awesome to watch. Tsuna wishes he could be as cool as Hana-chan sometimes, only without the scary parts. ~~He doesn’t ever want to make someone else feel small~~.]

But even at their most intense, none of those lessons have ever made Tsuna feel unsafe. In other words, they have done little to prepare him for the reality of an actual kidnapping.

Even worse is the way it happens which goes like this: Tsuna wakes up. He wakes up and there’s something wrong. Every instinct he has blares _dangerdangerdanger_ in a painfully high-pitched voice and Tsuna remembers going to bed the night before, remembers Mamma wishing him a good night and Chikusa sulking over some math test he’s dead certain he shouldn’t have failed and _he’s not in his bed anymore_.

Tsuna’s eyes snap open even as he already jerks upright — no, forward. There’s no more upright to go to, he’s already sitting. Why would he sit when sleeping? All he manages to do though, is to almost make the chair he’s apparently bound to topple over.

It takes Tsuna a few moments of blinking stupidly and trying to focus, but the scenery doesn’t change. He doesn’t recognize the room he’s in, but from the creme-colored walls and unpersonalized furniture it looks a little like a hotel room — or one of those safe houses they’ve studied in social sciences. The chair he’s bound to is cushioned, but he’s been bound not just on his wrists and feet but also his upper arms, upper body and tights, which makes for an awkward posture that isn’t really comfortable.

Clearly, his kidnappers have more faith in Tsuna’s ability to escape them than is at all reasonable.

Kidnappers. _I’ve been kidnapped_ , Tsuna realizes with slowly mounting horror. And not grabbed on the street like they’ve practiced in those lessons either. Someone got into his home and stole him right out of his bed. His mother sleeps in the room next door, Chikusa across the hall—

~~Don’t think about it.~~

Tsuna doesn’t know how much time passes like this, with him wiggling around on the stupid chair, unable to do anything but worry about his family, panic and try very, very hard not to hyperventilate.It’s touch and go for a while there — a long while, longer than Tsuna is comfortable admitting to — and it doesn’t help when Tsuna’s little self-encouraging inner motivational speech is interrupted by the door being slammed open.

He flinches so hard it’s a wonder the chair doesn’t wobble. Then again, it’s pretty sturdy.

Three men and two women file into the room, all completely disregarding him as they chat in a language that doesn’t sound even vaguely familiar to Tsuna’s ears. He bites his lips hard, not willing to draw unnecessary attention to himself, even though it’s clear those people are well-aware of him. They haven’t relaxed once since they’ve entered and their gazes keep flickering towards Tsuna, though they never quite land on him. That’s fine with Tsuna. Being ignored by people that make him want to squirm away just by breathing near him is always a good thing in his book.

Tsuna knows he’s supposed to keep careful watch of his kidnappers, to pay attention because any piece of information can prove useful later on — ~~should he live that long~~ — but Tsuna is fourteen and terrified and useless and so he does the only thing he can: He presses his eyes closed and wishes with all his heart that Chikusa was here.

Because Chikusa is never afraid, not of anything. Not even when he probably should be. [Like when the bank was robbed while they were in it and Chikusa just herded Nana and Tsuna into a corner, said he’d 'take care of everything' and somehow by the time he’d returned twenty minutes later it had all turned out to be a big misunderstanding and the wannabe-robber had given himself over to the police. Or that time in the mall, when a crazed supervillain whose hands could transform into poisonous hooks ran amok and Chikusa just straight-up bowled the guy over with a grocery cart filled with tuna cans.]

Right now, Tsuna wants nothing more than to have the reassuring presence of his brother by his side and be told this is all a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that’s about to get a whole lot worse because in that moment an actual alarm sounds, double the volume of Tsuna’s internal sirens and just as annoying.

At once, the tension in the room skyrockets. One of the woman with the curly hair that frizzles as if electrified barks out several orders that have one man and the other woman leave the room with drawn guns [ ~~that’s a mistake~~ ] and the two other men position themselves facing the door.

The woman, apparently the leader of the group, stalks towards Tsuna with a poisonous glare that freezes his very thoughts in place and positions herself right behind him. With a — Tsuna swallows hard and immediately regrets it — very sharp blade that she seems to pull out of nowhere and is suddenly pressed against Tsuna’s neck, so close he can feel the brush of cold steel against his skin.

"Don’t move, kid," the woman orders with a faint accent Tsuna still can’t place. "Wouldn’t want to have an accident any earlier than planned, would you?"

One hand is holding his shoulder too, tight enough it feels as though her fingers are claws, burying themselves into Tsuna’s skin, so deep, they may never let go entirely. Tsuna presses his lips together, but doesn’t manage to silence his startled 'Eeep!' completely.

He really wishes those bindings were looser, if only so he could lean away though. It’s not even the blade at his throat that’s bothering him the most, it’s the hand on his shoulder. The fact that she’s _touching_ him and it makes something in Tsuna’s stomach shrivel up and die.

The door opens with a soft click.

And. Tsuna should’ve expected a Vongola Inc. special task force, a top tier cleaner squad even. But somehow he isn’t surprised by the sight that greets him, which is Chikusa, dressed in nothing but his sleepwear, standing barefoot and loose-limbed in the door. He must have been taken as well, Tsuna thinks, because he’s not wearing his beanie and Kusa-kun would never leave home out of his own free will without a beanie. He looks naked without it. Mostly because Tsuna is so used to see him covering his head and a little because, well. Chikusa doesn’t have hair. Not even eyebrows, though those don’t stand out as much as long as Chikusa keeps his head covered.

[Tsuna knows it makes him uncomfortable when people stare, knows it makes him stare back with blank eyes that say _I dare you to say something_ and quietly think _defective_ to himself and he _hates_ it because there’s nothing wrong with his brother. He hates these people for taking the choice away from Chikusa too.]

Chikusa, who has blood running down his left temple, is obviously unarmed and who looks supremely unimpressed by the guns aimed at him.

 ~~ _My brother is_ so _cool_~~.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance," Chikusa states and something about the way he says those words — a matter-of-fact observation, as though the idea of being killed doesn’t bother him at all — sends a shiver of dread through Tsuna. [Not for himself, of course. Chikusa would never hurt him. But for what Chikusa may do, what he may consider _necessary_ and _acceptable_ in order to handle this threat.]

"My mistake." Even without being able to turn around Tsuna can hear the way the woman behind him bares her teeth. "But don’t worry, I never make the same mistake twice. Your cute little water trick didn’t save you before and it won’t save you now."

[Chikusa’s gift is water manipulation. Tsuna has spent many an evening watching Kusa-kun practice with a full glass of water that he makes float in the air and take new and increasingly intricate shapes. He likes the dragons and the robots the most. Sometimes, on a rare good day, Kusa-kun even acts out entire plays for him, which is literally the coolest thing Tsuna has ever seen anyone do with a super gift.

However. It’s far from the only thing Chikusa is capable of.]

"You won’t have a second chance," Chikusa says bluntly. The air around him sharpens. "Take your hands off Tsunayoshi _now_ or you won’t even have a closed-casket funeral."

"Don’t make promises you can’t keep, boy." The woman snorts.

Tsuna doesn’t understand why. Chikusa is dead serious, even he can see that. Still, she finally lets go of his shoulder. Only to trail her sharp, sharp — _ow, that stings_ — fingernails over Tsuna’s cheek, pressing them painfully into the flesh. Tsuna flinches, unable to suppress the reflex and whines lowly somewhere deep in his throat when he cuts himself on the blade still resting against his throat.

A few drops of blood trickle down his throat.

Chikusa’s eyes narrow.

"Did you know that up to sixty percent of the body of a human adult is made of water," he comments casually. "The brain and heart are supposedly composed of seventy-three percent and the lungs contain around eighty-three percent."

Even as he speaks the two men in front of him crumble. One of them is heaving, clawing at his chest even as he begins to throw up blood. The other screams as his arms and legs break with terrible, terrible cracks, are folded in ways the human body is not meant to be.

Chikusa doesn’t blink, doesn’t even look at them. "Even bones are to thirty-one percent made of water," he continues, calm as you please.

"You—"

The woman starts. She’s trembling, Tsuna can feel it through his body and then she’s trembling even harder and screams and never finishes because her body explodes. Literally. Tsuna doesn’t see it, doesn’t really understand it either when he’s suddenly covered in warm, sticky goo, in blood, skin and brain splatters and he doesn’t understand how the woman can still scream either.

He doesn’t really understand that he’s the one screaming until Kusa-kun cuts his bindings and pulls him up, Chikusa who’s pajama used to be soft blue and is now torn and ripped and covered in blood and other even ickier stuff. The room looks like something out of a horror movie Tsuna thinks oddly distant even as he stumbles forward into Chikusa’s arms with a barely audible, sobbed "Nii-san!" Only when they close around him does Tsuna notice how hard he’s shaking.

At some point, Kusa-kun leads him out of that room. At some point other people arrive that are loud and ask questions and make Tsuna flinch. At some point, someone tries to pry his grip on Chikusa’s hand loose and Tsuna screams like he’s the man who’s bones were broken one by one. At some point Tsuna throws up.

At some point, Tsuna falls asleep in a bed that is his but is not safe ~~how can it be safe?~~ his hands feel sticky even though the blood has long been washed off and Chikusa’s heartbeat under his ear is the only thing that feels real at all. Even that doesn’t stop the nightmares though. Nor does it shake off the numbness that has clawed itself into the core of Tsuna’s bones and refuses to let go.

* * *

66.

For five days Tsuna is a ghost inside his own body. He refuses to let Chikusa out of his sight, screams and cries in his sleep until even Mamma wakes up, curls himself up inside his closet because the bed _isn’t secure_.

On the sixth day, Tsuna wakes up tired and exhausted and doesn’t remember whatever weird dream kept him up half the night. He showers and greets Mamma with a smile and goes to school and trips over his own two feet and fails a math test. Chikusa stays close, always inside Tsuna’s space in one way or another, and although that’s not too unusual, Tsuna doesn’t think he’s ever been this physical about it before. He resolves to enjoy it while it lasts.

He still flinches at the sight of blades and prefers couches over armchairs and sometimes curls up on the carpet or underneath the bed because he just can’t fall asleep inside it, but all in all Tsuna is fine. He’s always been fine.

[Nana is just glad that her Tsu-kun is finally feeling better about that terrible fright one prank gone wrong had given him and Iemitsu hasn’t been in touch with his family in two months.]

And because Tsuna has _always been fine_ , when he notices an odd change a couple of weeks later, realizes to his surprise that if he looks long and hard enough at his classmates he can sometimes tell whether they have the potential for a mental gift or not, he doesn’t think to mention it to anyone. He doesn’t think much of anything about it at all.

Just brushes it aside as another piece of private information that’s really none of his business and goes about his day. Focusing that hard on really _seeing_ a person gives Tsuna a headache anyway.

* * *

67.

"Voi, you said you can’t enter his mind again!" Squalo complains from where he’s sitting crosslegged on the ground, carefully cleaning a very long sword. [Seriously, that is way too long to be practical.]

Tsuna doesn’t know how Mammon’s offer to undo the memory blockages that have apparently been applied to his mind ~~don’t think about it~~ has turned into a group lesson on the practical application of the mental arts, but somehow all present Varia members — which are all Varia members excluding Leviathan — have invited themselves along for the experience while Tsuna was still too stunned by the idea that _his head has been deliberately messed_ _with_ to have the presence of mind to protest it.

"I said I can’t enter his mind without invitation," Mammon stresses. "And that will be another ten added to your monthly bill for having me repeat myself."

"OI!" And there goes Squalo’s inside voice. It was nice while it lasted. "What the fuck, you damn miser?! You said this bullshit lesson is free!"

Mammon’s face may be made up of a blurred, black shadow, but it’s a surprisingly expressive blurred, black shadow. Tsuna swears they’re raising their eyebrows at their fuming colleague. "Nothing in life is free. Tsunayoshi receives answers in order for pay off the debt I owe him. Your participation in the activity on the other hand will be billed to your account according to my usual fees."

"Come on, Squalo-honey," Lussuria needles with a tooth-achingly sweet voice that makes it look like he isn’t trying to be a pain when he really, really knows he is. It concerns Tsuna that he can tell that. Clearly he has spent too much time in present company, which is fifty different shades of concerning. "Don’t you think factual information straight from the arguably most powerful mental in the world is worth a couple of hundred thousands in cash?"

Tsuna stares. A couple of _hundred thousands_?! What kind of hourly wage does Mammon demand? And how in the hell can these people afford such prices? Sure, people always claim a life of crime is more lucrative, but that’s only true when you’re up really, really far — and even then it’s often short. Then again, these are the Varia, some of the world’s best assassins. Tsuna supposes that might affect their prices. Not just for a hit itself, but also for the message that being able to send one of the _Varia_ to clean up your trash sends.

"So, uhm, what- I mean, what do you mean you need an invitation?" Tsuna asks timidly while Squalo continues to cuss out Lussuria, Mammon and the socially constructed value of money in general. If he’d wait for the swordsman is done, they’d be here all day and Tsuna isn’t so sure they can actually afford that.

"Your mind is protected against mental intrusions and attacks. From what I’ve been able to tell it’s a passive protection that only reacts when someone enters your mind by force, hence why you’re unlikely to have noticed it until now." Mammon shrugs. "The protection itself seems to be mostly intention-based but it is tightly interwoven with you and at least partially aware of your own thoughts and reactions, which is why it immediately responded to your determination to evict me. It’s a… curiosity, you could say. I’ve never seen a mental defense implemented in such a way."

Tsuna frowns. "What do you mean by that?"

"Mental protections are rare," Mammon lectures with a faintly put-upon air. "In general only mentally gifted supers possess them because they fight as many battles in their minds as outside of them. Physically inclined supers and unidentified ones such as yourself are ill-suited for such protections because you lack the mental awareness to accept them, to consciously strengthen and repair them yourself. An ill-applied protection or one deemed unwelcome by the host’s mind can be as devastating as any outright attack. They are by design highly invasive measures because they need to be anchored deep within the host’s mind to be of any use against another mental. That makes them very uncomfortable and increases the likelihood for the host to reject the protection." Mammon waves dismissively.

"If it were _easy_ , every half-witted Vongola operative would run around with a mental shield and a good number of average supers besides. People tend not to like having their minds messed with." The last one is said with a genuine undertone of puzzlement, as though Mammon knows this to be an irrevocable truth, but doesn’t understand why that is.

Tsuna tries not to show how freaked out he is by that same sentiment. [He keeps forgetting that there is a reason these people are known as supervillains, that they have _earned_ the title. That’s… probably a bad sign.]

"It’s probably why your mind is such a mess." Mammon continues in an utterly blasé voice as though announcing that, by the way, they’ll be ordering pizza for lunch and Squalo will be paying. "I’d have to enter your mind again to be sure, but my best guess is that the protection was applied when you were very young, likely by someone you trusted because they are anchored deep within your subconsciousness and you’ve accepted them into yourself to the point where its too closely entwined with your own mind to be undone. Congratulations, Sawada Tsunayoshi, you have a working protection against powerful mental attacks that ninety-five percent of all supers would kill to possess and you’ve managed to survive receiving it with your mind mostly intact."

There’s no trace of irony in Mammon’s words which really just makes it worse. Tsuna’s grip around the cup Lussuria has snuck him tightens and he suddenly wishes it would contain something stronger than tea. This seems more and more like a 'stronger than tea' type of conversation.

"Mostly?" he asks weakly.

"If the protection has been in place since he was young, how come he has memory blockers in his mind?" Lussuria asks at the same time. His eyes are narrowed in concentration, though whether the look is aimed at the topic of conversation or at his own hair which he’s carefully braiding into a complicated looking plait is hard to tell. The question remains valid though.

"In all likelihood the suppression of those memories didn’t trigger a defensive reaction." Mammon taps the tips of their fingers together as if in deep thought. "The mental who blocked those memories must have been intimately familiar with the workings of the protection, likely even their creator. That or Tsunayoshi gave them permission."

"Why would I give someone permission to mess with my head?" Tsuna tries very much to ask the question calmly but it comes out as a half-hysterical shriek. That the supervillains around him exchange meaningful looks doesn’t help at all in bringing his pulse back down.

"Honey, there is a reason why memory erasure is one of the most in-demand mental services on the blackmarket," Lussuria says slowly, soothingly. "Yes, sometimes people want someone else to forget something — the heritage they want for themselves, the secret boyfriend their husband caught them with, the crime some unfortunate soul happened to witness — but a lot of those people come because they want to forget something themselves. There’s all kinds of tragedy no human wishes to carry with them. Being made to forget can be tempting — even kinder at first glance. Other times knowledge can be dangerous, not just to yourself but to people you care about. Some choose to forget rather than to compromise the safety of their loved ones."

Mammon scoffs. "It’s also the one service even barely trained novices are likely to pull off without breaking something that can’t be corrected. The human mind is not a playground. Memory blockage is one of the less harmful, less invasive skills that is unlikely to break someone even after multiple applications as your ability to hold this conversation demonstrates."

Because that makes Tsuna feel so much better.

"But those blocks, you can undo them?" He refuses to acknowledge the way his voice shakes.

"Yes." Mammon confirms. "The memories will never be as accessible as they are by nature and the older ones will have become blurred with age the way they would have naturally, but the blocks themselves can be removed with little difficulty. There’s nothing I can do about the scars though."

"Scars?" Tsuna really isn’t sure he wants to know but he bites his tongue to stop himself from taking the question back anyway.

"I just told you non-mentally gifted supers can’t safely hold mental protections." There’s no missing the exasperation in Mammon’s voice. He’s smacked in the face with a pillow, courtesy of Xanxus. "You were _lucky_ your mind accepted the intrusion of a mental at all. That doesn’t mean you’re exempt from the damage building the defense up has wrought on your mind. But those scars are over a decade old. There’s nothing that can be done to mitigate those injuries now and if it hasn’t driven you insane yet, it’s unlikely to do so later on."

Tsuna stares in horror at where he assumes Mammon’s eyes must be, not that he’s seeing anything. He thinks- He thinks he’s going to throw up.

"Tsunayoshi," Mammon’s voice softens a little and Tsuna kind of hates that that only makes him feel _worse_ , "the mind of a child is a terribly fragile thing, but it is also astonishingly resilient and adaptable. That you were able to integrate the protection you were gifted so thoroughly into your sense of self means that it has likely protected you even from the consequences of the harm dealt to your own mind. I cannot speak for a trained psychologist but from a mental’s perspective your mind is healthier than the average Vongola field operative’s."

"You said my mind is a mess though."

"It is," Mammon agrees. "From an outside perspective. It’s disturbing _because_ of how well it functions in spite of the wounds it carries and how coherent it is despite containing two distinct presences, one of which is foreign and should thus be subconsciously rejected. It is— disorienting, to say the least. That doesn’t mean this is a bad thing. Human minds, super and otherwise, aren’t _meant_ to be invaded. An additional hurdle can only work to your advantage. Besides you should keep in mind that an average Vongola field operative is _not_ mentally sound."

Tsuna closes his eyes. Breathes in. Exhales. Opens them again. "Because the average Vongola field operative faces two to three powerful mental supervillains a year in the field," he recites dully. "Right."

If Mammon is the type of person to smirk, they’re doing it now. Tsuna can tell. "Quite."

That’s…

Tsuna doesn’t know about anyone else but that’s enough disturbing revelations for the day for him.

"Can we just get the mental blocks over and done with please?" He hopes his voice doesn’t sound as whiny as he thinks it does, but Tsuna is done. He doesn’t want to think about foreign presences in his own mind, especially not when he can’t remember any such occasion — and from the way Mammon describes the process, it’s not something even Tsuna would have missed — which gives him a pretty good guess on what one of those memory blocks is hiding.

The thing is. Tsuna isn’t sure he wants to know. It’s a cowardly thought and Tsuna hates himself for it, but he can’t help it. [He doesn’t want to question his entire life. Doesn’t want to find out he’s build everything he is on a _lie_.]

"You’ll feel me the moment I’ll try to enter your mind," Mammon warns. "Do not panic. You need to consciously welcome me inside. If you feel that our last alteration is too near for you to accept me, tell me immediately and we break it off right away."

"I thought you said the removal of those blockages isn’t dangerous." Lussuria does a full-body stretch, for all intents and purposes completely relaxed, but the mild words send a twinge of _something cold_ through the air.

" _Every_ action to alter another mind is dangerous!" Mammon corrects harshly. "This particular endeavor is as low-risk as a mental manipulation can be, but it hinges on the consent of the host. The moment Tsunayoshi’s mind fights me, I will be evicted and disrupting such a delicate process can have unpredictable consequences. So again, we will proceed only if you are sure you can allow me to destroy the barriers, Tsunayoshi. Otherwise we will have to work on accustoming you to my mental presence first."

"I understand."

Tsuna does. He understands that he wants this over with _now_ and if he has to have Mammon dance the polka on his supposed mental scars then that’s what’s going to happen. Right the fuck now. He’ll get rid off those memory blockers and then _no one_ will _ever_ enter his mind again.

"Let’s get this over with."

* * *

67.

Tsuna is sitting in front of the box again, making funny faces at the boy with the pretty eyes and shaping his hands like animals the way Kaasan has taught him — though that would work better if the light wasn’t so bright in here. Shadow puppets are loads of fun and Tsuna bets the boy must be bored — there’s nothing to play with inside the box and Tsuna has never seen anyone else stop by to visit.

He’s already been here for a while though and Tsuna knows he can’t stay for much longer or someone will catch him. And then Touchan will be angry because Tsuna isn’t supposed to leave the boring room.

"I should go," he says quietly and presses one hand against the box.

Like always the boy inside mirrors him. He even tries to smile. Tsuna grins back without reservation. They’ve been practicing a lot together and the boy with the pretty eyes is getting really good at it. Which is great. Everyone should know how to smile.

Tsuna turns to leave the room, but when he reaches the door he hesitates. He doesn’t know why. Tsuna knows he needs to leave or someone will find him. ~~But he also knows that if he goes now, he’ll never see the boy with the pretty eyes again~~.

Tsuna walks back towards the box. He’s never opened it before ~~because he knows they will know if he does~~ , but now there’s this uncomfortable, rolling feeling in his stomach that tells Tsuna that no matter what he does, something bad is going to happen.

Maybe it’s like with the stories Kaasan reads him before he goes to bed, where the superhero has to make the hard choice because the easy one is not always the right one. Or maybe not. Tsuna doesn’t know if there is a right choice, but he knows he wants to see the boy with the pretty eyes again and he remembers what Kaasan said about children, so he turns the key and pulls the door open.

A very loud sound startles Tsuna and makes him jump back two steps with a shriek. In that time, the other boy has already climbed out of the box and is now staring at him.

"Why did you let me out?"

Tsuna splutters. The boy’s voice is softer than he thought it would be. "Uhm, I think- I think something bad will happen to you if you stay. And Kaasan says boys don’t belong in boxes, so you shouldn’t be in a box, so I had to let you out so you can run around and play and be free," Tsuna rambles.

He hopes he remembers all the important bits, sometimes his memory is a little scatter-y. And that he doesn’t mumble because when he gets excited sometimes his tongue trips over words or swallows them up and Tsuna doesn’t notice until someone yells at him for not speaking properly.

Maybe he has mumbled though because the boy stares at him really long. "I don’t know how to play."

"Oh." Tsuna scratches his head. Peeks up shyly from underneath his fringe. "I- uhm, I can teach you? I mean, if you want?"

"You would?"

"Sure!" Tsuna smiles brightly. "We’re friends, aren’t we?"

"Friends." The other boy repeats like he’s not quite sure what that word means. Then he smiles back and it doesn’t look quite right, but it’s really close already to a real smile and Tsuna _beams_. [Pretty eyes is such a fast learner, Tsuna is a little jealous about that. But mostly happy because he has a super cool new friend! He’s made a real friend and he’s done it all on his own! Kaasan is gonna be so happy when he tells her.] "Yes. We are friends."

There’s loud footsteps approaching now and Tsuna crumbles a little at the noise. Touchan won’t be happy that Tsuna is down in the basement and surely he’ll get yelled at for letting his friend out of the box even though boys aren’t supposed to be in boxes.

A hand slides into his own. Startled, Tsuna looks up into the pretty, colorful eyes of his new friend that are sparkling with laughter and amusement. "Wanna play a game with me?" he asks and he looks so very close to happy that Tsuna can only nod, worries about his father and other weird grown-ups already forgotten.

"Come on, then." The boy tugs him further into the room and through another door, that leads into yet another endless long, bright hallway that looks just the same like the one the elevator always leads Tsuna to. The grin on the boy’s lips still isn’t quite friendly, but it’s very mischievous and Tsuna smiles back without hesitation. "Let’s play hide and seek with the evil white-cloaked monsters okay?"

Tsuna stumbles once, but his friend pulls him along before he can tumble to the ground. "I don’t know… Monsters are kind of scary," he admits in a whisper as the boy pulls him down and they hide behind an odd shelve filled with weird glass thingies that are filled with pretty colors. Not as pretty as his new friend’s eyes though.

"Don’t worry," the other boy whispers back. "They won’t catch us. And if they do—" he grabs a small silver tool from one of the tablets they pass by that glints in the neon lights and looks a bit like the kitchen knives Kaasan doesn’t let Tsuna touch, "I’ll protect you from them."

The boy isn’t smiling anymore, but Tsuna squeezes his hand and whispers, "Alright. I trust you." anyway. Because Tsuna knows the boy isn’t lying. [ ~~Knows he hasn’t yet learned how.~~ ]

* * *

68.

[They’re caught eventually by a terrible monster wearing a billowing, white cloak, who speaks cursed words in a foul tongue and is armed with a scary big syringe. Tsuna pushes his friend to the side at the last moment and that’s why the monster only gets a hold of him and at first it doesn’t even hurt so bad, but then it hurts a lot and Tsuna is crying and the whole world goes topsy-turvy and feels like it’s made of cotton and pretty red candy floss.

Tsuna tries to taste it, but Pretty Eyes insists he doesn’t and keeps dragging him along. There’s other monsters too, but Pretty Eyes keeps them away and the hallways keep turning and circling around him and—

"Don’t worry," Pretty Eyes promises. "You’ll be safe." His eyes burn like fire straight through Tsuna’s head and it feels a little like it should hurt, like he’s just slammed a metallic rod through both of Tsuna’s eyes at once, and it _burnsburnsburns_ until something _gives_ [ _cracks_ ] and then the pain is distant, is far away, and Tsuna feels cold, so very cold, but also like it doesn’t really matter.

"'kay," Tsuna murmurs through numb lips. He smacks them, but that just feels really strange. And funny. He does it again. Huh. Still strange.

He’s surrounded by red and Tsuna kind of likes it. It’s a very pretty shade of red. There’s also a monster, but it doesn’t move so that’s okay. It looks sad though. Tsuna draws a smiling face with the pretty red paint that looks so much like one of his friend’s eyes next to it. There, that’s better.

It’s very bright here. Bright enough to hurt a little to look at. Tsuna whines and closes his eyes, just a bit, just for a moment.

~~"It’s okay," his friend whispers. "I’m here. I’m watching over you. You’re safe. I won’t let any of them touch you. Ever."~~

~~Tsuna grabs his hand tightly and smiles into the darkness. "I know."~~ ]

* * *

69.

Tsuna stares down at the soup that Xanxus has slammed down in front of him with an unsettling grin that is three parts gleeful _I knew this day would come and my revenge shall be glorious_ and two parts _taste your own medicine, bitch_.

[Privately, Tsuna thinks that Xanxus is more dramatic and petty than the rest of the Varia combined, he just hides it under ferocious scowls and gun shots. It’s not like Tsuna begrudged Xanxus a proper meal, Xanxus’ stomach just needed time to grow accustomed to solid food again after eight years trapped in fucking not-ice and nightmares.]

The Varia’s insistence on proper, regular meals seems kinda off. Then again, it’s a great excuse to spend time together and for all the drama concerning Tsuna’s still aching head, it hasn’t escaped his notice that none of the Varia seem eager to take their eyes off Xanxus for too long. Not that Tsuna blames them. It’s just- Their worry — masquerading as violent affection because apparently everything the Varia do, they do violently — is easy to pick up on, even for him, the outsider. So why is _he_ the one who constantly gets blankets dropped over his head and piled with warm tea, meals and constant snacks?

 _Tsuna_ isn’t the one who was taken hostage by hostile elements. Okay, technically that’s a pretty accurate summary of his current situation, but it’s not like the hostile elements are supposed to care about his health. At least Tsuna thinks so. It sounds off to him. And the seminars on hostage situations certainly never mentioned anything of the sort. Sure, they’ve discussed creative torture measures, but Tsuna would bet this month’s salary that Mochida-san wasn’t thinking of Xanxus di Varia wolfing down two huge steaks in front of Tsuna, who’s on his second spoon of tomato soup, with a self-satisfied smirk.

The soup is freshly made and tastes delicious. Tsuna really doesn’t understand this guy or his smug face.

"How’s your head doing, darling?" Lussuria asks for what feels like the fifth time within the last hour.

Tsuna glowers into his soup and doesn’t answer. Lussuria’s incessant questions would be easier to bear if the concern in the man’s voice was genuine. Not that it is faked entirely — " _A lie is always most believable when it is based on the truth._ " — but Tsuna can tell that there’s something else to Lussuria’s questions, something he can’t identify that was missing before his little session with Mammon.

Under normal circumstances Tsuna wouldn’t care. Concern is concern, even if it doesn’t stem from a pure heart — which is hard to find in ordinary company, never mind the one he’s currently keeping. But normal circumstances went out of the window the day Tsuna made off with a fucking ice sculpture from Vongola Inc.’s trash bin at the very latest. It’s been less than 24 hours since four out of five people in this room wanted to brutally murder him [and Tsuna isn’t yet sold that Belphegor has changed his opinion in that regard, the man is _way_ too fond of his knives] and Tsuna has had his own memory fucked with to un-fuck the fuckery Muk— [ ~~don’t think about it~~ ] _someone_ has left him with.

In his defense — or to Mammon’s credit, Tsuna isn’t sure whom he’s got to thank for that — Tsuna doesn’t really feel any different. The memories have slid right into place like they’ve always been there and though he’s got a faint headache, it’s not so much that there’s something hurting him as that he can tell something isn’t there anymore that used to be and it feels _off_ without it now.

Tsuna still can’t recall the memories unless he actively thinks of them and from what Mammon has explained, he likely always will. [Because the memories were blocked, Tsuna’s brain has never connected these memories with other ideas or experiences that might subconsciously bring the previously suppressed memories to the forefront of his mind. At least, that’s what Mammon said. Tsuna doesn’t care about the mechanics, what matters is that he’s got the memories again, even if the oldest ones are blurred because apparently blocking the memory doesn’t keep them from fading with age. It doesn’t make much sense to Tsuna, but few things involving the practicalities of mental manipulation do.] They also feel a little less— personal, for lack of a better word, than he thinks they should. But that’s hard to tell considering most of them are many years old and Tsuna doesn’t have any other experiences with broken memory blocks to compare this one to.

All in all though, it could’ve been worse. Even the memories themselves aren’t as huge a deal as Tsuna thought they would be. Hell, Tsuna, well aware of his terrible luck and penchant for witnessing things he has no business seeing, had _expected_ it to be worse. Really, he’s fine. There’s no reason for Lussuria to watch him like a hawk. Or a flight-risk.

However, when Tsuna raises his head it’s not Lussuria who is trying to glare a hole into his forehead, it’s Xanxus. Tsuna tries to cover a wince at the force of the man’s focus, although he’s decently sure he’s not fooling anyone.

"'m fine," he mutters when Xanxus' glare doesn’t relent and forces himself to swallow another spoonful of soup.

[ _Tomato soup_ , really? Is this some sort of psychological test? Does Mammon know what memories he’s unearthed in Tsuna’s head? Or is it just an obvious conclusion every mildly-insane-but-still-capable-of-logical-thought killer in this apartment has come to on their own?]

Dinner takes forever. Mostly because everyone seems to be waiting for Tsuna to finish, which Tsuna becomes uncomfortably aware of when Belphegor rises with the words "The Prince has deigned you peasants with his presence long enough, he will-" only for Xanxus to straight up smash a glass in his face — Which _how_? And _why_? And most importantly how come no one here gets even a little upset over the prospect of having to dig glass shards out of their skin? — accompanied by an impressive glare and guttural growl from deep within the man’s throat that causes Lussuria to shoot him a scolding look, leading to Belphegor sit is ass back down again and finish his sentence with a sullen, "-stay right where he is and enjoy this riveting conversation."

Tsuna gulps down another spoon. His swallow is obscenely loud in the tense silence that has followed Belphegor’s comment and he can’t help but curl into himself.

[This is worse than that one family dinner to which Iemitsu unexpectedly showed up, drunk Mamma’s entire stash of sake and wouldn’t stop harassing Kusa-kun — ~~don’t think about him~~ — about treating his sweet Tsuna-fishy right, no matter how often Tsuna insisted that they _weren’t fucking dating_ and that’s really saying something. Tsuna has always known just how close Chikusa came to killing Iemitsu that day. ~~Now he also knows how gory an end that would have~~ —

Yeah, he’s not finishing that thought. Nope. Not gonna happen. If Hana can tell everyone with a straight face that she isn’t dating _at least_ one Sasawaga and Haru can still insist that Hibari-senpai is _such a closeted romantic_ , then Tsuna gets to have this. No one ever claimed insanity isn’t contagious.]

"So, what do you guys to in your free time?" Tsuna blurts out when the pressure of the Belphegor’s unblinking stare finally becomes too much — meaning around thirty seconds after the man has started his watch-the-little-peasant-squirm activity.

The moment his brain processes his mouth’s truly atrocious ability to smalltalk supervillains [another natural superhero ability he lacks, no surprise there] Tsuna wants to smack himself in the face. Good thing he manages to suppress the urge because he’s still holding a spoon full of tomato sauce and Tsuna is forty percent sure that Lussuria will kill him if he gets soup on the man’s snow white jumper. Why you would wear a white jumper to eat soup is beyond Tsuna, but then he’s always been very aware of his state as a natural human disaster and tries not to tempt fate with his wardrobe choice.

Maybe other people don’t have that problem. [They’re about to, though. One of the few things Tsuna excels at is taking everyone within reasonable — and sometimes unreasonable — distance down with him when he inevitably fails at life.]

"Free time?" Squalo doesn’t sound mocking, he sounds puzzled. "You mean like training?"

"Err." Tsuna doesn’t know how to respond to that. "More like-" _what’s the word in an assassin’s everyday life vocabulary that I’m looking for_ , "-downtime? You know, when you recover from a mission?"

That fails to clear things up, if Squalo’s squint is anything to go by. "Sleeping, physiotherapy as necessary and brushing up our skills to keep up with proper Quality standards, mostly."

" _Is that so_ ," Lussuria says in a voice made of poison before Tsuna has the chance to clarify that that’s not what he meant either. "Tell me, Squalo-dear, does 'physiotherapy _as necessary_ ' include six hours of sword training you aren't cleared for and exactly zero of the strength and stretch exercises I have shown you specifically to compensate for the damage your spine’s taken from all those _absolutely necessary_ jumps of a motherfucking roof?"

It’s phrased like a question in the same way that 'Run for your life, they’re coming!' is phrased like a calm, matter-of-fact statement, which is to say not at all.

"VOI, you can’t still hold that over my head, that was one time!" Squalo protest.

Lussuria smiles.

Squalo visibly sweatdrops. "…this month."

Tsuna wonders if he should point out that they’re not even half-way through the month. Probably not, what with the way Lussuria continues to smile and Squalo is slowly but surely losing all color. At least Xanxus doesn’t seem alarmed. Tsuna tries to find some comfort in that and valiantly ignores the hysterical screeching in the back of his mind that goes ~~Kami-sama, they must be like this all the time, how does the world survive this?!~~

A panic attack would be counter-productive. All the more so because Lussuria looks like he wants to ram a knife through Squalo’s hand to pin him in place, so that he’ll be stuck listening to a rant on health, the limits of a super’s regeneration abilities and the basic common sense Squalo is clearly lacking. Should that happen Tsuna is _so_ out of here.

"-ability to heal does not negate the damage your body suffers, _as you well know_ , _darling._ " Lussuria continues his tirade in a sugar sweet voice that makes Belphegor — who is going back and forth between pouting at his plate and cackling silently at Squalo’s misfortune — inch away subtly. "More importantly, your unwillingness to take care of your own body even half as much as you take care of your swords creates more work _for me_. The next time I catch you touching a sword before I give you explicit and verbal permission to do so, I’m going to melt it down and use the raw material to hogtie you to your office chair, am I understood?"

"Office chair?" Squalo asks weakly.

Tsuna gets why Lussuria chose a white jumper now. He looks positively angelic, fluttering his eyelashes, glittering with golden eye shadow, and wears the look surprisingly well. Well. Evilly angelic. If there is such a thing. Which there absolutely should be, considering that Lussuria is currently personifying it. "Oh, we wouldn’t wish to deprive you off your paperwork while you rest now, would we, Squalo-dear?"

"Uhm," says Tsuna tentatively under his breath while Squalo manages a shaky nod and Lussuria continues on with the not-at-all-veiled threats, mostly to distract himself from the train wreck of that conversation. "Actually I was wondering more if you, you know, have a hobby or something."

The words are mumbled, almost incomprehensible. Tsuna almost jumps straight off his chair when Belphegor pokes him in the side. With a dagger.

Thankfully it’s just a poke and not an actual stab, but Tsuna is pretty sure the fabric now has a hole in it. He swallows hard and tries not to scream at the oddly focused look Belphegor bestows him with — one that cannot be a good thing, what with the dagger he’s twirling in one hand. "What’s a hobby, peasant?"

Tsuna’s brain kind of takes a tumble at that question. "I- Err- I mean-" Tsuna can literally see Belphegor’s non-existent patience fade from his expression, like a countdown to the end of Tsuna’s lifespan. "It’s something you do because you enjoy it, but you don’t get paid for it. You do it simply for the activity itself, for the fun of it. Did you- Did you never have anything you did in your free time? Not- Not even as a kid?" Tsuna stutters his pathetic version of an explanation out and is genuinely surprised to find himself still alive by the end of it. Although Belphegor doesn’t look happy, so that might change soon.

"I’m a _prince_ ," the man sneers with an impressive amount of condescension. [This takes Tsuna back to middle school, it really does.] "Royalty doesn’t have this 'free time' you speak of, we have duties."

That’s… one of the saddest things Tsuna has ever heard in terms of childhood memories. ~~Right up there with the " _What’s 'outside' mean?_ " a little boy with pretty eyes once asked him~~. Alright. Maybe Tsuna has a bit of a problem with empathizing too much. [But maybe if someone had given Belphegor a break when he was a kid, he wouldn’t have turned into a cackling mass-murderer best known for killing his entire family, so there’s that.]

"Of course," is all Tsuna manages to stammer out loud and hopes to hell that his face remains neutral. "I wouldn’t expect anything less."

"Out of curiosity," Belphegor continues after a moment — and really, why did Tsuna have to start this conversation? Why won’t Belphegor _end_ it? — and idly cleans one of his fingernails with the tip of his dagger as though he couldn’t be less interested, "what activities fall under this 'hobby'? And do many peasants pursue them?"

 ~~Abort mission!~~ , the sirens in Tsuna’s head scream. ~~Abort mission right the fuck now!~~ He doesn’t understand why since he’s pretty sure Belphegor isn’t planning his death right now, but it’s far too late to jump of this sinking ship now, so he mentally shoves whatever sanity he has left into the dustiest corner of his mind and hopes for the best.

"Well, most people have them," Tsuna starts hesitantly. "And uhm, there’s all sorts of things people do for fun. Reading, writing, cooking, gardening, painting, knitting, playing sports… Some people like to collect things or watch movies or play games."

Belphegor perks up at that. "The Prince enjoys playing games!"

Tsuna thinks back to the disaster of a monopoly round that Xanxus had the presence of mind to interrupt via seizure — part of the game board had been _on fire_ — and settles for a faint hum.

"I think it only counts when no one dies." Tsuna knows no such thing, but the last thing he needs is for Belphegor to track down a game like _Werewolf_ or _Alibi_ and decide to take the elimination part of it literally.

"Oh." The way Belphegor deflates at that would be funny if they weren’t talking about, well, killing people.

"The Prince is very accomplished at drawing intricate patterns with his victims’ blood," he tries again after a moment of thoughtful silence. The worst part is that he sounds both genuinely proud and genuinely excited at the idea of having a hobby.

"That— works," Tsuna says faintly and ~~doesn’t think of smiley faces painted in blood. He doesn’t think that if he’d think of anything, it definitely would be smiley faces painted in blood because those are easier to visualize, distant and impersonal somehow, rub less sand onto already sore skin~~ wonders if drowning himself in what’s left of his tomato soup is a viable escape strategy. Unfortunately there’s not enough soup left in the bowl for him to drown in.

"I like gardening," Lussuria announces smugly, inviting himself into the conversation with enviable ease as he twists to avoid one of Belphegor’s knives [distressingly _not_ the dagger he’s still twirling in one hand].

"Kiss-ass." Squalo coughs into his fist.

"If growing your own poison ingredients can be classified as 'gardening'." Mammon’s dry injection earns them a wounded look from Lussuria.

Tsuna pushes his bowl aside and slams his forehead against the table. Hard. Hopefully it will be enough to knock him out.

It isn’t.

[Xanxus’ furious glower doesn’t abate all night. He must really like his dinner table.]

* * *

70.

"You’re not listening to me." Tsuna crosses his arms, unable to articulate his frustration in another way. One that won’t get him shot — lethal or otherwise — that is. It also makes him feel childish, but he’s determined to ignore that. It’s already hard enough that he’s _arguing_ with the Varia. If he thinks too hard about that, he’s really gonna have a panic attack.

"On the contrary." Squalo as the chosen spokesperson — probably because Xanxus can’t speak, Lussuria is terrifying when he isn’t fussing, Mammon would demand a pay raise and Belphegor is Belphegor — seems to reach the end of his patience as well. "We’ve noted your concerns, considered them carefully and then elected to ignore them."

"Because you’re not taking me serious!" Tsuna doesn’t _mean_ to snap. He’s more aware of the weapons everyone in this room but him is carrying than can be healthy for his heart, even if none of them are drawn. But there’s a special kind of frustration to _knowing_ you’re right and not having people listen to you that Tsuna is entirely unprepared for — he’s usually the one who doesn’t get it, not the one with something important to say. "I have to be back at my desk tomorrow at 8.30 at the latest or Vongola will get suspicious. Right now you have the advantage because they haven’t noticed Xanxus-san missing yet, shouldn’t you of all people be eager to exploit that chance for all it’s worth?"

Unsaid goes the fact that with Xanxus’ steep recovery curve, every day gained makes a world of difference, but Tsuna is confident he doesn’t have to be the one to point that out. These people are smart, even when they pretend to be dumb and childish — no one has killed anyone so far and given the events of the day that takes more skills than most operatives develop during their first five years in the field — they aren’t.

The problem isn’t that they want to draw Vongola Inc.’s attention. [Not until they’re confident they can weather that storm, at least.] The problem is, they don’t trust him.

Not that Tsuna blames them. Or trusts _them_ for that matter. He hasn’t stayed in the hide-out for a full 48 hours and he already knows one shouldn’t trust the Varia with a stuffed goldfish, never mind a living being. And Tsuna, for all that Xanxus has made his— approval? Is that what it is? Possessiveness? Claim? Tsuna doesn’t know and the more he contemplates the only words that seem to come close to describe Xanxus’ habit of shielding him from the other members’ exuberance, the surer he becomes that he doesn’t want to know either. Anyway, for all that Xanxus doesn’t tolerate serious threats against Tsuna and has been brought back to the Varia thanks to Tsuna’s actions, unimpressive as they may have been, Tsuna is still a Vongola operative. Worse he is a _Sawada_. Who conveniently pops out of nowhere with a miracle in tow.

In their shoes, Tsuna wouldn’t trust himself either. [ _Convenience_ in an active super’s life just means that you haven’t figured out the the proper angle of the trap yet. After all, not every cage is made of iron bars and not every bait ends in gunfire.]

"Vongola," Squalo counters, "has currently over four-hundred operatives in the field and almost double the numbers in research, technical support and administration. One operative calling in sick for a week won’t raise an eyebrow, never mind an alarm."

"You were pale, sleep-deprived and underfed when Boss brought you in," Lussuria, the traitor, adds. Conveniently ignoring that if anyone has brought Tsuna in, it was Belphegor and even he only dragged Tsuna over the threshold. "Your co-workers won’t be surprised by you coming down with something."

That is creepily observant and unfortunately also true. Tsuna sags back into his wonderfully comfortable couch — the only positive thing about this conversation — though less in resignation and more in hopeless annoyance.

The thing is, the Varia are right. Vongola Inc. is technically advanced and its security would make most intelligence organizations green with envy if they knew just how far some of their resident geniuses have come. But as Tsuna’s own rescue efforts of a certain ice sculpture show, that doesn’t make them omniscient or all-powerful.

[ _Companies are big things_ , Hana whispers into his mind, a crack to her smile that never healed quite right, _lots of things slip through the cracks_.]

More than that, like any corporation Vongola Inc. is made up of humans. No one would turn a head at an operative not showing up for work, so long as the proper protocols are followed. Certainly no one would take a second glance at Tsuna’s absence, his own reputation of being dame working against him. There shouldn’t be any problem and Tsuna can think of worse things than lying on this couch for a week. ~~Like lying dead in a ditch somewhere~~.

Except. In this, too, Tsuna is an exception. He just doesn’t know how to put it into words.

"Yes, they’ll believe it," Tsuna says slowly. [His squad would believe it if he called to inform them that he’s tripped over a banana peel straight into a busy road, narrowly avoided getting injured beyond a fractured ankle and that a group of determined girl scouts who’d felt guilty about dropping said banana peel were racing him to the closest hospital in their handcart. Tsuna knows that because eight months ago he called Mochida-san to inform him precisely of those circumstances and he didn’t even get a disbelieving snort.] "But because they believe it, they’re going to check up on me."

Squalo shrugs. "So we make it something highly contagious but fairly harmless."

Tsuna snorts. "Hibari-senpai doesn’t get _sick_." That’s like one of the ultimate laws of the universe.

It’s only the raised eyebrows that comment earn him that make Tsuna realize that for people unfamiliar with Tsuna’s medical history that comment isn’t as self-explanatory as it could be. He wonders how to put 'My second month at Vongola, I caught the flu. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, but on my third day I slipped in the shower because of a dizzy spell and when Haru called to check on me and I didn’t answer, she convinced Hibari-senpai that I’d been taken hostage and my flat was stormed by an official Vongola assault squad.’ [Or as official as Hibari-senpai’s assault squads ever are. Tsuna has heard rumors that people in Accounting keep pre-sanctioned, pre-filled out forms for collateral damage and acts of excessive violence at hand just for Hibari-senpai, but it’s hard to tell how much truth there is to it.]

The entire affair wouldn’t have been that big a deal — embarrassing, sure, but false calls happen and it’s company policy that it’s better to call in an emergency one time too many rather than one time too few — if Tsuna’s inability to function as a normal human being hadn’t caught Hibari-senpai’s attention. Haru has tried to explain that to him.

[She’d been very excited too, gone on and on about how she doesn’t mind sharing her crush with Tsuna-kun because the two of them are just too adorable together. That part had been so blatantly false, not to mention _insane_ that Tsuna hadn’t dared to ask a single question regarding what the hell she was talking about.]

The point is when Tsuna calls in sick, sooner or later Hibari-senpai breaks down his door to check if Tsuna has managed to kill himself yet. [He probably could’ve been broken of that unfortunate habit if there hadn’t been the incident with the robbers during a bad cold a few months later. Say what you want about Hibari-senpai but he spares no effort when there’s a chance that he gets to pick a fight. And it doesn’t get much more fight-y than dropkicking people out of Tsuna’s windows. _All_ his windows. Needless to say, Tsuna had moved into a different apartment complex after that incident.] It’s why Tsuna makes a point of leaving the door unlocked if at all possible. It’s also the reason he keeps restocking the green tea Kusakabe-san told him Hibari-senpai favors.

In other words, Hibari-senpai will search for Tsuna and nobody wants that. There’s a difference between being hunted by Vongola — which the Varia will be sooner or later — and being hunted by Hibari-senpai personally. ~~The only reason he doesn’t have a more fearsome reputation is that the dead tell no tales and everyone in Vongola knows better than to draw his ire.~~

Tsuna doesn’t know how to say any of that though, how to explain it to an outsider who has never experienced the full effect of Hibari-senpai’s _not even the gods can touch me_ mindset. "It won’t matter," is what he settles on. Only when he speaks does he realize how long the pause has lasted, how everyone is watching him a little sharper, a little more evaluating.

"Listen, kid-" Squalo starts, but trails off when Xanxus interrupts him with a sharp slash of his hands.

Xanxus’ hands move jerkily and Tsuna doesn’t know any sign language, but he’s watched Lussuria and Xanxus practice together this morning and is pretty sure Xanxus is spelling something out. Squalo is watching attentively, then rolls his eyes. "Fine, whatever. _Why_ do you want to get back to work so badly?"

Tsuna hesitates, then turns and addresses Xanxus instead since the question clearly came from him. "I don’t want to, I need to," he corrects. "If I’m not there tomorrow, it will catch the wrong sort of attention and it won’t end well. For anyone." ~~Mostly for you~~ , Tsuna doesn’t say.

[It’s not a guess. It’s not the dramatics of a first-time hostage. Tsuna knows with a certainty that sometimes scares him, often reassures him, that this is the way it needs to happen.]

Xanxus’ red eyes are fixated on him. There’s no derision or judgement in his expression that Tsuna can read, if anything he looks almost… considering. He makes another gesture and Tsuna is almost sure there’s the sign for 'Vongola' mixed in there somewhere, but he’s still pretty lost.

He’s the only one if Squalo’s grouchy "If you say so, Boss," is any indication. Not that that’s anything new. "I still say it’s a stupid idea though."

The second the grumbling man turns his back on them, Xanxus rolls his eyes at Tsuna and makes a very impolite gesture that needs no translation.

Tsuna can’t help it, he snorts. "Thank you." [ _For listening when no one ever does_ , he doesn’t add.]

* * *

71.

It’s probably weird, Tsuna thinks on his way home from going grocery shopping with Kaasan, that he has trouble looking away when they pass their neighbors’ house where Kyoko-chan is playing in the garden and Tsuna can’t bring himself to look away from her. He really should look away.

Tsuna doesn’t always understand other people well — especially grown-ups because grown-ups just make no sense most of the time — but he knows he doesn’t like it when others stare at him, so Kyoko-chan probably doesn’t like it either.

Tsuna still doesn’t look away though. He can’t help it. Kyoko-chan is _interesting_.

She’s different from all the other kids in their neighborhood. She can smile so hard, the air dances with sparkles and glitter, which is so pretty and also _so_ weird because when Kyoko-chan smiles like that she isn’t happy at all.

Maybe that’s why Kyoko-chan reminds him of the man in the boring room at Touchan’s workplace who made funny faces, Tsuna thinks. That man smiled like threat, warning, victory and Kyoko-chan doesn’t carry that same quiet, deep fury, ~~all-encompassing enough to swallow everything in sight, never to resurface~~ , but Tsuna doesn’t doubt for a moment that she will master every smile there is.

Oh. _Oh_.

Tsuna should tell Touchan when he comes back home tonight. It has to be terribly bothersome to always find new people to put into the boring room, just for Tsuna to look at them and find nothing special about them at all. But maybe if Tsuna finds someone for him then Touchan won’t be away every weekend and Kaasan won’t try not to cry when dinner’s gone cold and Touchan still hasn’t called to tell them he’ll be late. Maybe Tsuna do help with that. Can be _useful_.

[Besides Kyoko-chan would be so much more interesting to look at. Maybe she’d smile like that time Toma-kun and his friends beat up her big brother. That had been scary but _so cool_ to see. Tsuna can’t wait to see it again.

Maybe Kyoko-chan will even make the assistant cry that always flutters around Touchan when Tsuna visits with him. Tsuna doesn’t like seeing people cry but he’ll make an exception for this one. ~~Tsuna _hates_ people dressed in white coats~~.]

* * *

72.

It’s a perfectly normal Monday. Tsuna arrives at work a couple of minutes early — and a little tenser than usually, mostly because until he’s set foot into the HQ he still expects someone, probably Belphegor, to tackle him from behind and make off in a dead-run, cackling madly as he does so — but nothing out of the ordinary happens. The security guards greet him, he greets them. Haru is already in, Hana arrives precisely at eight o’clock, Mochida is late like he is every Monday morning.

There’s no ill-timed supervillain attack, at least not one they’re called out on, so Tsuna spends most of the day working through paperwork, filing evidence from one case or another, answering e-mails and generally drowning himself in the normalcy of everyday bureaucracy.

~~He doesn’t open any file he shouldn’t even have access to. He doesn’t stare at the search bar for half an hour, barely blinking, wondering what would happen if he’d enter the name Rokudou Mukuro. On his brief stop at Irie-kun’s lab, Tsuna doesn’t ask him if there’s any living test subjects currently in Vongola Inc.’s care. Doesn’t ask how many floors the building has.~~

Tsuna is fine.

The quarterly budget meeting is an absolute pain for everyone involved. Tsuna learns several new curses just from listening in on Mochida’s phone call with Administration because of a stupid filing error that actually wasn’t Tsuna’s fault for once and Hana drinks three espressos more than is advisable for their squad’s peace of mind.

Tsuna doodles smiley faces all over his notebook during the boring team meeting ~~and doesn’t think about the way blood feels under his hands, warm and wet and a little sticky, how it stays under your fingernails even after you’ve washed your hands. Doesn’t think of brain and how easily the human body can be ripped apart from the inside out. Doesn’t search through cold cases for those that killed through powers that were never identified, never connected to any particular super, even though he _knows_ they are there. Knows some of them would match. Knows those are only the victims that have been _discovered_.~~ It’s a very unspectacular team meeting.

Eight hours and twenty-four minutes after Tsuna has arrived, he clocks out again. Hana shoots him a glance, but he only shrugs in response. There’s no urgent paperwork to finish, no mission deadline that can’t wait, no lives hanging in the balance. Tsuna has pulled his fair share of all-nighters — they all have — but when there’s a calm week like this, he likes to not stay a moment longer in the building than he has to.

[It’s not that there’s anyone or anything waiting for Tsuna outside of work. It’s just that he’s never particularly liked being at work. ~~Vongola Inc. is not a building that inspires a sense of safety, no matter how many years Tsuna has spent inside these walls~~.]

It’s a habit that comes in handy now because if there’s one thing Tsuna wants it’s to finally get home and get a night sleep in his own bed. And if there’s one thing he can’t afford to do, it’s to act out of character. ~~To draw unnecessary attention~~.

Hana’s gaze flickers back to her screen as quickly as she’s raised it and with one acknowledging nod and a quiet "See you tomorrow," Tsuna is done for the day.

On his way home, Tsuna absently wonders whether Reborn will be waiting for him at his apartment. He hasn’t sensed the Arcobaleno the entire day, but Reborn wouldn’t have to watch him to know that he’s shown up for work. Maybe he’s lost interest, but it seems several weeks too late to put much stock into that particular hope. So he’ll probably be waiting for Tsuna. [ ~~Why bother with the hunt when your prey will come to you sooner or later?~~ ]

Tsuna should probably be worried about the possibility. Instead he simply walks, heartbeat steady and head reassuringly empty of thought. He doesn’t know what it is, the routine of the day, the insanity of the Varia, the memories he can’t stop pocking at, but Tsuna finds it hard to get up the energy to care about anything right now.

Which is why when he turns around a street corner and almost walks straight into a knife, Tsuna doesn’t scream. Isn’t even sure he processes what’s happening. Just blinks, stares at the familiar blade and wonders how often it’s been dripping in blood. ~~When he tilts his head to the left, he can almost see it.~~

"Get onto the bike, peasant!" Belphegor snaps, irritated despite the wide grin. "The Prince doesn’t have all day."

And well. Tsuna gets onto the bike. Clearly, the Varia aren’t done with him just yet. [Why did he expect any different?]

* * *

73.

Tsuna hasn’t given it much thought how the Varia would murder him, should they be inclined to do so. He’s trying to forget the disturbingly visual threats from their first meeting, not give himself more nightmares, thank you very much. But if pressed, he’d say it would involve a lot of blood. Maybe some slow-working, particularly painful poison if Lussuria is feeling vicious.

Turns out that he was wrong. Apparently, traffic accident is the way to go. [A small part of Tsuna, the part that’s been trained for years, even if it rarely shows, approves. Accidents happen all the time. It’s a good way to get rid of an active operative. A safe way. Won’t draw unnecessary attention from Vongola Inc., won’t be investigated for too long. With any luck it might even be quick.]

Tsuna clings to Belphegor’s middle when the insane maniac takes another curve sharp enough to almost lose control of the bike. Knows his grip is too tight, must make it difficult for the man to breathe by now, but he’s still cackling madly and Tsuna is still convinced they’re going to die — perhaps even in an actual accident and wouldn’t that be embarrassing? — so tough luck trying to make him let go right now.

The next turn is too sharp, physics just don’t work that way, and the back wheel slips. For one eternal moment, Tsuna can see himself get dragged down this street, asphalt burning through his jeans and jacket, skin melting with the seriously not meant for a bike ride clothes he’s wearing, can hear the crack of his helmet [worn at Belphegor’s puzzled insistence as though he wasn’t sure why anyone would bother but determined to make Tsuna put it on nonetheless] against the ground, maybe somersault a few times before he’d come to a still with half his body crushed underneath the bike. Then Belphegor’s foot is on the ground, he’s lifting the entire bike up, rotates it 90 degrees in the air like it weighs nothing and, more importantly considering his super strength, like the physical forces mean nothing and they’re off again.

Tsuna doesn’t know if he screams. If he does, he doesn’t hear it over the pounding of his heart, the rush of blood in his ears, the deafening gasps for air from his lips. _Don’t throw up_ , he reminds himself and thinks of little else for the rest of their nightmarish ride. _Don’t throw up_. [Getting sick over the two of them, _that_ Belphegor would definitely kill him for. Then again, compared to his driving skills, brutal but straight-forward murder might be preferable.]

Somehow — and Tsuna really, really doesn’t comprehend how — they make it. Alive. Belphegor decelerates and eventually comes to a stop in front of an unremarkable house with grey walls and drab curtains that eludes less character than a prop for a TV show. It’s not the apartment Tsuna found the Varia in, nor the one he used to hide Xanxus.

Now that Tsuna has taken a few deep breaths and reacquaint himself with the dearly missed stable ground under his feet, he realizes that he has no idea where they are. Not even approximately. Which means the Varia burned their former home the moment he left. [ _Of course they did_ , the logical voice in the back of his head that always sounds a bit too much like Hana to be a coincidence, drolls. _The location was compromised. They wouldn’t have kept Xanxus there while he’s still vulnerable_.] Which implies there’s an actual method to Belphegor’s driving that goes beyond insanity and a very real death wish. Who’d have thought?

It probably speaks for itself that the first thing Tsuna does in response to that realization is hope the Varia have taken his favorite couch with them.

* * *

74.

Tsuna doesn’t have much of an opinion regarding the Varia’s newest hideout, safe for the fact that the road to get there is traumatic [thanks, Belphegor] and that it’s hard to breathe inside the house. The latter may have something to do with the arms that look muscled and, more importantly, trained enough to rip his body in half and have wrapped themselves around Tsuna like a steel cord, slowly but surely crushing his torso into a squishy, meaty mess the moment he steps through the doorway. There is something familiar about the guy currently mumbling one thing or another into Tsuna’s hair, but frankly Tsuna doesn’t win any prizes for his deductive abilities under normal circumstances, never mind while fast running out of oxygen.

"Can’t breathe." He wheezes, the words as weak as a newborn kitten and easily lost in the spectacle the man clutching him to his chest makes of them.

There’s spots dancing before Tsuna’s eyes by the time Belphegor’s sharp voice and even sharper knife register. "Release the fluffy peasant at once or the Prince will _make_ you!"

There’s a bloody cut on one of the arms wrapped around him that causes the grip to tighten reflexively. Tsuna gasps, even though it takes a second longer for the pain to register and then he’s suddenly free.

Panting for air, blinking hard against the moisture in his eyes and struggling to keep himself upright against the wall, but free.

"What," Tsuna forces out once words are a thing that is happening again, "was that for?!"

"You freed the boss!" The man — and oh, that’s Leviathan, that actually makes sense — exclaims while ducking another one of Belphegor’s endless knifes. There’s tears glistering in his eyes and Tsuna feels a very strong urge to duck for cover and make a run for it. Supervillains are one thing, but he’s not equipped to deal with emotional ones. Usually when there’s someone crying, it’s Tsuna and everyone else is telling him not to be a baby about it.

Okay, that was back in middle school but the point stands.

"You’re welcome," Tsuna says reflexively and it’s only Belphegor’s timely intervention that keeps Tsuna from getting crushed against Leviathan’s broad chest once more. Who’d have thought that a knife-wielding maniac would come in handy at some point?

Somehow they make it through the evening without any further attempts on Tsuna’s life via overpowered hug. There’s a couple of times where the conversation steers into dangerous territory that causes Leviathan’s lips to wobble and Tsuna to escape to the toilet on no less than three separate occasions, but overall things go well.

[In retrospect, the most critical moment occurs during breakfast the next morning, when Tsuna is still too tired to focus properly and accidentally reveals that he’s mostly looked into Xanxus’ situation because of Leviathan’s concern. That had gotten him another painful hug, a couple of tears he determinedly doesn’t remember from Leviathan and a dark glower promising bloody vengeance from Belphegor.

Worst of all, it’s brought him Viper’s incurious inquiry — which can’t have actually been all that incurious or they wouldn’t have bothered to ask — as to how, precisely, Tsuna has managed to free Xanxus. Which. It hasn’t occurred Tsuna until that moment, but Xanxus had never asked and he’d never offered. He’d tried to picture confessing the truth to the Varia — that he’d mail-ordered Xanxus straight out of Vongola’s rubbish bin — and seen his life flash before his eyes.

Luckily that had been the moment Tsuna had also realized he was late for work and the whole discussion had been postponed. And will continue to remain so indefinitely if Tsuna has anything to say about it, thank you very much.]

* * *

75.

Although his recent career change may not highlight this fact, Byakuran is in fact a reasonable person. While he considers most human beings — civilian or super — mind-numbingly tedious, pathetic and worst of all unimaginative wastes of space and resources, he doesn’t make a habit of erasing their insignificant existences just because he can. [Only when the entertainment to be gained is worth the effort.]

This is a very good thing. Not because if Bykaruan wasn’t ultimately lazy and first and foremost interested in securing his own amusement he’d have ended life as anyone knows it on this world years ago. And he could have.

[Because Byakuran is born into a world fraught with tension — between civil rights and military realities, between the safety of the one and the protection of the many, between progress at all costs and the price that keeps going up and up, between the sanctity of the human being and the scientific achievements that have brought even those fundamental truths into question — and a society rife with mistrust and hatred — between superheroes and supervillains, between supers and civilians, between governments and the Trinisette Institute — and it would be so very, very easy to kindle the low-simmering fire, to spark an inferno that will consume the entire world and leave nothing but ashes behind. Byakuran could be that spark.

Perhaps he’d have succeeded, perhaps not, but what matters is: Byakuran could’ve dealt enough damage before anyone would’ve been able to stop him that there wouldn’t have been much left to save no matter the outcome.]

As a matter of fact, he still can. Byakuran has chosen to become a supervillain on a random Thursday after lunch for shits and giggles. Within two months of that day he’s earned himself a place on the official Vongola Inc. Top Wanted list — and with fewer deaths and dastardly plots to his name than he’d expected too. If Byakuran had known how easy being a supervillain is, he might have gone for the vigilante thing after all. Not really his thing and developing his own personal 'right' and 'wrong' scale to deal out justice had seemed uninspiring at the time, but maybe there’d be more banter and some hilarious moral dilemmas when the superhero squads inevitably got involved in one of his fights.

Of course he could always set up a few moral dilemmas for his courageous opponents to play through. _Hmm_. Tsu-chan wouldn’t approve, but then Byakuran would hardly be careless enough to let him find out. _Something to think about_.

While he currently lacks a proper archenemy and the entertainment that brings with it, Byakuran otherwise enjoys being a supervillain. There’s more options in disregarding the laws completely than just dancing in between their open spaces and spitting on their spirit. [Though that, too, had been a fun couple of years.] More importantly, his current profession has given him the chance to stumble upon Sawada Tsunayoshi. And what a delightful surprise that had been.

[It’s a shame that Vongola Inc. has upped his threat level. Byakuran enjoyed the lower-level attack squads a lot more than the jaded, experienced fighters he deals with now. Their sense of humor leaves much to be desired. Truly, he’d do the world a favor by getting rid of them.]

Darling Tsu-chan is a locked treasure chest for which even Byakuran isn’t sure if he could reliably guess the true value it holds. [He’s secure in the knowledge that he comes closer than any other living person though, which means his ignorance in the matter is acceptable. For now.] Not so much because of what he can do — though give Byakuran a few more months to finish his master in human psychology and a hand full of the world’s experts on the workings of the human mind, trauma therapists and specialists on conditioning and brainwashing [for a well-rounded advisory board, of course] to stamp those pesky self-esteem issues into manageable hurdles with useful coping strategies and Vongola, at least, will be surprised by the sort of things their best-wasted resource is capable of — but because of the frankly astonishing effect little Tsu-chan has on other people.

Case in point: The Varia haven’t murdered him yet. _The_ _Varia_. Byakuran adores the little hero, but [or maybe because] Tsu-chan is a walking, talking security risk and lose end wrapped up in an not at all intimidating package _and_ he poses a direct threat to the Varia’s leader. In all honesty, Xanxus should’ve killed him the moment he woke up. Or failing that the moment he got his hand on a knife for the first time. Which Tsu-chan undoubtedly handed him, the sweet, oblivious cutie.

It would’ve been a pity of course. Tsuna provides Byakuran with more entertainment than any other human he’s ever met. More than that, Tsu-chan keeps surprising him. And Byakuran is a very hard man to surprise. He likes the Varia well enough and enjoys their taste for madness and chaos even more, but that wouldn’t have stopped him from slaughtering them for ruining this opportunity. [There are very few people that have caught Byakuran’s interest like this before. Unfortunately, none of them are still alive and dead bodies make for terrible company.]

The point is, Byakuran has a vested interest in Tsunayoshi’s continued survival. Despite his determination to become Tsu-chan’s official and acknowledged BFF [an entirely novel path he’s never pursued before and therefore worth of seeing through] and his admittedly obsessive need to keep an eye on the little hero [because being honest with yourself is important and also Tsu-chan’s self-preservation instincts are so utterly fucked it’s actually impressive and that’s coming from _Byakuran_ ] he has also decided against keeping Tsu-chan for himself. As interesting as his undivided attention and company would be, what fascinates Byakuran is Tsuna’s impact on others. Isolating takes away much of that precise entertainment value.

So while the thought of _sharing_ his first ever claimed friend doesn’t sit well with him, never will, makes his fingers itch for something less _mayhem_ , more _massacre_ , Byakuran knows Tsu-chan’s many little dalliances with various supers are part of what makes him so intriguing in the first place and allows them. He even tolerates the unnecessary time Tsu-chan has been spending at the various Varia hideouts every evening for the past week because those slowly unfolding bonds Byakuran’s experienced eye easily picks out will be interesting once they’ve grown in strength and the cavalry’s reaction once they inevitably catch on will be _glorious_.

But there’s certain lines in how far Byakuran is willing to go. [Sharing has never been a strength of his.] Having the Varia interfere with his and Tsu-chan’s designated BFF tea time — which it had taken two solid weeks to accustom Tsunayoshi to — doesn’t just cross a line in the sand, it blows the entire sandbox to pieces.

Byakuran is not an unreasonable person. He is capable of sharing Tsu-chan’s time and attention with the Varia, a few Arcobaleno, his co-workers and even the little hero’s family if he absolutely has to. However, his patience is not without its limits and right now the Varia’s persistent kidnappings are intruding on _his_ Tsu-chan time.

This is unacceptable.

* * *

76.

It’s rare for Vongola Inc. as a whole to encounter a setback they cannot recover from or even turn to their advantage. Rare but not impossible.

Their super creation research facility suffers one of those setbacks. ~~'Research facility' is such a nice word with all the right implications, don’t you think?~~

[Non-consensual super creation is not yet a crime — consent not yet a term applied to supers as it might be applied to more privileged civilians — and every organization has their own programs and research facilities, some open, some not so much. Critical voices have grown over the years, scandals involving inside coverage of the less than sanitary or humane conditions in various labs have incensed the public. New ethical guidelines are established, slowly begin to solidify into industrial standards, but have yet to unveil their full impact within society at large and the law, as always, lags behind its time.

Vongola Inc. is not the cruelest, nor the most unreasonable of organizations. Not in this regard nor in any other. ~~Perhaps it would be easier if they were. Then again, doesn’t that makes for a terrible excuse?~~ They are one among many and the significant progress their scientists make in understanding the workings of the superhuman body should not be disregarded. Neither should the cost at which those insights were achieved.]

If the term 'setback' can cover the slaughter of the entirety of the research division right there in the middle — or more precisely underneath — of the Vongola Inc. headquarter without raising any of the upper level alarms, that is.

Timoteo Vongola, ninth CEO of Vongola Inc., is also less then pleased by the vicious attack. All the more because it was successful — and because no clear culprit could be identified. It doesn’t help that most information regarding on-going projects was kept on paper for security purposes and subsequently lost or damaged in the assault. This makes it impossible to declare for sure whether the destruction of the super creation research division has been a long-planned, strategic move by one of their many opponents or the result of mishandled experiment — one or more that could have either escaped or self-destructed upon the finishing their self-imposed mission. It has happened before.

[That is the problem with creating supers. You don’t know what kind of monster you’ll create, only that it will be worthy of nightmares if you let it grow up for long enough.]

In the aftermath of this debacle, Timoteo makes the choice to disband the super creation division within Vongola Inc. It is the _political_ thing to do because the winds on super rights have been turning and for all that the dead scientists and their knowledge are a loss to the company, a slate doesn’t get much cleaner than having all the previously participating parties firmly removed. Besides creating supers, no matter how young, has proven costly — what if the attacker hadn’t restricted itself to just those they saw directly responsible for their pain?

And so perhaps the term setback is an appropriate description after all: The decision improves Vongola Inc.’s reputation, fits the zeitgeist of this new century and above all will prove advantageous in future maneuvers against rival organizations. ~~As for the studying of superhuman nature, well. Creating supers for the sole purpose of scientific study has fallen into disrepute. Young supers most of all. However, their society is much more forgiving when it comes to the fate of captured mass-murderers and insane supervillains.~~

The only other thing of note in regards to the infamous spree-killing is the barely five-year old child, discovered amidst the torn and broken bodies of some of the organization’s best scientists, unconscious but alive. A show of mercy by the killer perhaps, an allowance for the boy’s age and obvious noninvolvement with the experiments.

[Iemitsu is furious at the situation, at his son for running off, at the bloodbath occurring within their own walls, at himself most of all. But Tsunayoshi is uninjured, awakens a couple of hours later with no memories of the attack, likely knocked unconscious early on, and above everything else he is grateful his child wakes up at all.]

* * *

77.

"So." Tsuna cringes when his squeaky voice breaks the silence that has descended upon the kitchen in the Varia’s new hideout ever since Marshmallow Muffin showed up out of nowhere and kicked everyone out, but he squares his shoulders and soldiers on. "This is nice."

"Isn’t it just?" Marshmallow Muffin beams. Glitters and sparkles included. [Tsuna hopes for Xanxus’ sake that it’s a non-reality-conform special effect and not Marshmallow Muffin’s killing intent. It’s hard to tell, what with Tsuna feeling nothing at all.]

"It’s so kind of your hosts to let us have the room all to ourselves so we can enjoy a proper cup of tea in peace."

Those words could be made of marshmallow for how sugary sweet Marshmallow Muffin’s voice gets when he says them. Without a hint of irony too.

"Sure." Tsuna eyes the man dubiously, not sure if he’s kidding or not. In the lull of conversation the sound of people insistently banging against the door and loud cursing is very audible.

[Tsuna did mean the 'kicking everyone out' literal. As in Marshmallow Muffin appeared in a cloud of pink glitter with a rainbow colored banner reading 'Official BFF Tea Party Time' over his head, told the Varia to get lost and when Belphegor nailed his sleeve to the wall with a dagger, he kicked them out through the door like the Varia are a bunch of footballs and he’s a seasoned player just warming up. It would’ve been awe-inspiring if it wasn’t so terrifying. ~~And maybe a little funny~~.

Marshmallow Muffin kicked the door shut behind the last one and must have reinforced it somehow because from the sounds on the other side the Varia haven’t accepted the change in occupation peacefully. But Tsuna is used to the way reality bends to Marshmallow Muffin’s whims by now, so that part at least is less shocking. Though the dents in the door are really starting to weird him out. One of them looks distinctly people-shaped.]

"So." Marshmallow Muffin claps his hands. The background noise, presumably caused by the Varia’s attempts to reclaim their kitchen, quietens. "You’ve been busy lately, Tsu-chan. Made new friends left and right too. Have you been sleeping enough?"

Marshmallow Muffin’s eyes glow eerily orange as they survey Tsuna critically. Tsuna tries not to shrink too visibly into himself. He’s pretty sure that’s a pass/fail question and he’s never been good at getting those right.

"Yes?"

Marshmallow Muffin flicks his nose. It doesn’t hurt, but the hot tea Tsuna accidentally spills on his lap when he flinches back kind of does. "Either you’re telling the truth and have no reason to doubt your words or you lie with conviction, Tsu-chan. No reason to sound insecure, is there?"

"Uhm." Tsuna stares into his now half-empty tea cup. "I’ve slept a lot." That’s Squalo’s fault, who’s surprisingly strict about bedtimes as Tsuna had cause to learn over the past week. More precisely forcing everyone else to back down so Tsuna can escape to his bed at a reasonable hour. Lussuria’s mentioned that Belphegor had to be locked into the freezer the first night, but Tsuna is pretty sure Lussuria was kidding. Well. Forty-five precent sure. Minimum. "Not always well though."

And isn’t that an understatement.

Tsuna’s dreams lately have been… not good.

~~Seeing Chikusa walk past two dying men, covered in the blood of who knows how many more, with complete disregard for the lives he ended without a thought, as though they are nothing more than a barely noticeable inconvenience, as though it’s the easiest thing in the world, makes bile rise in the back of Tsuna’s throat.~~

Marshmallow Muffin clucks his tongue and pours more tea into both their cups. Tsuna takes an absent-minded sip. It tastes delicious.

Their tea always does.

Tsuna can appreciate that, now that he isn’t scared out of his mind during their talks anymore. [That or he’s become a functional panicker. The sort of person terrified out of their mind with the knowledge that their company is going to brutally murder them any second now and they won’t see it coming and won’t be able to stop it, while still capable of keeping up a polite conversation. The more he thinks on it, the more it sounds like Tsuna.] Not as scared at least. Turns out, Marshmallow Muffin is a hard person not to be scared of. He’s also a hard person not to like. It’s a weird mix that Tsuna prefers not to think too hard on, lest he give himself another headache. He already has enough of those [and not all of them are obsessed with marshmallows].

"May I ask you a question?"

Marshmallow Muffin blinks, though a moment later the expression is washed away by the same delighted grin he always sends Tsuna when Tsuna does something outside his expectations. "So polite!" He coos. It should be annoying, but _should_ s don’t work as intended where Marshmallow Muffin is concerned. "Of course, Tsu-chan! You know you are free to ask me anything you want!" He rocks forward in his chair, looking for all the world like Tsuna has promised him a self-made marshmallow brownie.

Tsuna opens his mouth. Pauses. He’s never, ever asked anyone about their alignment. It’s not done and conveying that Tsuna is aware of such a private thing, well. It makes people uncomfortable. Tsuna isn’t sure he wants to find out how a super like Marshmallow Muffin handles being _uncomfortable_. It’s bad enough when he’s being bored, the world might not survive the outcome.

And yet. Tsuna hasn’t caught sight of Xanxus’ reaction to Marshmallow Muffin’s arrival, but if his supposed BFF threw any killing intent around, Xanxus probably hasn’t taken it well. And even if not, he might suffer a seizure right now, completely unrelated to Marshmallow Muffin’s intrusion. The attacks haven’t let up in the past week and though Lussuria has managed to confirm that Tsuna’s not-fire has some sort of regulating effect on Xanxus’ system, he’s been unable to recreate it.

"You’re used killing intent to knock my squad out!" is what Tsuna ends up blurting out because that’s what happens when his brain bends itself into a hundred little knots: His mouth is left unsupervised and decides to cause havoc.

Marshmallow Muffin cocks his head like a confused but intrigued puppy. Or whatever the murderous equivalent to a puppy is. "That’s not a question."

"How did you do that?" Tsuna clarifies before he can talk himself out of it. "How could _you_ use it?"

Marshmallow Muffin’s eyes narrow. Clearly he hears the unsaid implication just fine, not that Tsuna had any doubt. The supervillain is much smarter than his sugar-riddled schemes paint him, certainly way smarter than Tsuna himself. Then Marshmallow Muffin’s expression clears and he pushes his own cup aside. "You know."

Followed by a quieter, softer: "You are just full of surprises, aren’t you, little Tsu-chan?"

 ~~It doesn’t sound like a compliment~~. Tsuna bites his tongue and doesn’t answer. Restrains himself to fidgeting nervously under the man’s measuring stare.

Finally, Marshmallow Muffin relaxes back into his upholstered, throne-like chair — that must belong to Xanxus, really, does he have a special chair in every Varia hideout or does he have two to three favorites he always carries around with him? — legs stretched out in front of him, forearms resting on the armrests, the picture of regal relaxation. It’s the smile that gives the trick away though. Marshmallow Muffin always smiles in Tsuna’s vicinity. He has at least twenty-four different variations of a delighted grin ranging from _You are a gift that keeps on giving_ to _I can think of fifty dirty jokes to work into your eulogy at this very second, don’t think you can stop me because you’ll be very dead any second now_. The one he wears now is one Tsuna has never seen before. It’s less of a smile and more of a self-satisfied smirk, the picture of a supervillain who’s evil plan has come together perfectly, with a sprinkle of _Go on, ruin my fun, I dare you_.

Tsuna tries to not make his growing unease to obvious. By which he means he tries not to faint. That would give the game away for sure.

"Tsu-chan, Tsu-chan. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that knowledge is power and knowing too much gets you dead? It’s too bad that you refused my first offer. You would’ve made for a worthy adversary." Marshmallow Muffin shakes his head ruefully. "How I would love to cut your adorable head open and figure out what’s going on behind those expressive eyes of yours. Unfortunately I’m given to understand that non-consensual invasive medical procedures are not part of a healthy friendship dynamic and you refused to sign those wavers."

Kami-sama, there’s that pout again. Tsuna wants to dive under the table, but he doubts the wood, expensive though it may be, will stop Marshmallow Muffin if he’s not in the mood to be stopped.

"Yes, well, you refused to show me proof that you’re a licensed doctor."

"A-nd there’s that sass I know you love to hide and you know I love to hear! Now, I suppose given that you’ve shared a trusted secret with me—" perhaps Marshmallow Muffin reads the confusion in Tsuna’s face because he pauses, points at him with one finger and adds, "like a super-secret ability to look through a person’s core and see what’s inside, the kind of thing people would kill anyone for," in a sharp voice, "—it’s only right that I return the favor and put my trust in you as well. So, what is it that you want to now, Tsu-chan? And I mean what do you _really_ want to know?"

Those carelessly spoken words, the sheer incomprehensibility of the idea that Tsuna’s unwanted, useless ability to pick up alignments might be of interest to anyone, never mind get him killed, send Tsuna’s mind reeling. It’s only when Marshmallow Muffin clucks his tongue again, smile no longer reaching his eyes, that he realizes his sort-of-friend is still waiting for an answer.

"I just- I don’t understand killing intent. I don’t understand what it is or how it works or any of the mechanics."

Marshmallow Muffin raises his eyebrows. "Most people don’t. I’d hazard a guess and say only around ten people in the world have a single clue what KI even is. And a minimum of eight of those lucky fuckers work for the Trinisette."

"Yeah, well, most of those people don’t have a friend who was trapped in frozen killing intent for eight years!" Tsuna snaps, then flinches at the harshness of his voice. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you." He rubs his eyes. Wonders briefly if they look as gritty as they feel.

"Trapped you say?" Marshmallow Muffin intertwines his fingers with a thoughtful hum. "How curious. I’m guessing that friend of yours is a certain Varia leader who’s been officially MIA for almost a decade?"

Tsuna splutters, but doesn’t get the chance to incriminate himself — or Xanxus — worse than he already has.

"No, don’t answer that, it’s written all over your friend. You truly have terrible taste in friends, Tsu-chan, we’ll need to have a stern conversation about that when you don’t look half dead." Marshmallow Muffin waves off. "I suppose the Vongola have always been ahead of the curve. And so dreadfully lacking in imagination. It’s lucky you didn’t get mixed up with those folks or I’d probably have to kill you, Tsu-chan. And what a shame that would be."

"Very funny." ~~He’s not joking~~. Tsuna should be concerned about that, maybe, but at this point it’s hard to tell. Also beyond the occasional death threat Marshmallow Muffin is one of the most decent people he knows — keeps piling food on Tsuna’s plate even — and it’s not like he’s _trying_ to creep Tsuna out when he mentions those things. He’s just— too honest for Tsuna’s peace of mind.

"Aren’t I just? Now, Tsu-chan, you should know that I’m not a _licensed_ _expert_ on Killing Intent by any means. I’ve also never encountered anyone using KI in such a way — he was frozen alive, I presume?"

"I guess." Tsuna shrugs. "He was pretty much stuck as a life-sized ice sculpture. I didn’t- didn’t realize killing intent could be used in such a way."

"Well, hilarious as the mental image of Xanxus-the-popsicle is, he’s clearly out, so what’s the problem?"

From the glint in Marshmallow Muffin’s eyes Tsuna is almost certain the man already knows. "There’s some longterm damage. Nothing is physically wrong with him—" Tsuna expertly ignores the muttered ' _Oh, I can think of a lot that’s wrong with him_ ', "but he’s been having some issues. And I can’t help him because I can’t even tell when someone throws killing intent in my face and if I don’t even get what’s wrong, how can I begin to fix it?!"

In a purposefully slow motion, Marshmallow Muffin rests his chin on his clasped hands. "And has it occurred to you yet that it is not your job to fix darling Xan-Xan, Tsu-chan?"

It’s Tsuna’s turn to narrow his eyes. He gently pushes his cup and his plate with a as of yet-untouched strawberry cupcake to the side. "So there _is_ a way to fix him."

Marshmallow Muffin sighs. Loudly. "One day that too sweet heart of yours will get you into a ton of trouble and I will have to murder a lot of people to get you out of it. But I can see where my advice isn’t welcome, so let’s skip that part and get straight to the crash-course in KI for the self-preservation-handicapped that you really don’t need. And don’t forget your cupcake, cupcake. You haven’t been eating properly this past week, don’t think I didn’t notice."

Marshmallow Muffin makes a show of waiting for Tsuna to obediently take a bite before he continues talking. "Let’s start with the basics: The differences between supers and regular humans.As we all know, supers have humans beat in just about every manner from reaction time to strength, information processing and even life expectancy. The only exception might be mental stability and even there the scientists are still arguing, so let’s not get into that part today. Now there’s two physiological differences between supers and normal humans."

Most of that isn't news to Tsuna exactly, but that last part? He’s never heard that before. Then again, his biology grades used to be closer to 'fail' than 'pass' so maybe that shouldn’t surprise him.

"And by two differences I mean there are two kinds of energy in our bodies, sort of like two additional layers of the nervous system, that affect the structure and build of every single cell and culminate in a different and possibly improved version of the human body." Marshmallow Muffin raises one finger. "Now, those two energies? They’re unnatural in the sense that they are natural opposites that shouldn’t actually work symbiotically in the same circulatory system, which is where all that nasty human experimentation comes in. They essentially stuffed two opposing poles of a magnet into the same squishy flesh and hoped it wouldn’t explode and after they blew up enough bodies, they eventually succeeded. Very nasty shit that, but that’s no reason not to close your mouth when you chew, Tsu-chan. I know Mamma raised you better than that."

That cheeky comment earns Marshmallow Muffin a glare, not that he seems to notice. Still, Tsuna closes his mouth and determinedly ignores his flushed cheeks. "Wait, so we all have two forces inside us that should tear us apart?" Tsuna doesn’t shriek. He definitely, absolutely doesn’t shriek.

[He can’t help it though. Exploding is a messy death if he’s ever seen one and unfortunately he’s seen quite a few ~~and nope, still not thinking about it~~.]

"Oh please, even those amateurs managed to create a perfectly stabile system eventually, you’ve got nothing to worry about. There’s a certain range in which the presence of both energies in the same body doesn’t cause it to shut down. I could bore you with the details but suffice to say every super has a more or less even amount of both forces inside them and we all use them, consciously or not."

"Killing intent is one of them?!" the incredulous exclamation is out of Tsuna’s mouth before he knows it.

Marshmallow Muffin inclines his head. "Close, but not quite. See, those polar opposites? I call them activation and deactivation — though you are most welcome to come up with your own terms for them, I’m sure they would be enlightening. Most supers have an almost equal part of both forces, but everyone tends to favor one over the other. That means that while it’s possible to tap into those energies consciously, it requires a lot of focus and willpower and there’s always one of them that will come more natural to you than the other."

It’s the same way with gifts, Tsuna recalls. You can’t really train someone in their gift because every gift differs from the others, but you can train a person’s willpower and concentration. And by categorizing gifts, you can give them an idea of what they could be capable of and let them try.

"With activation that manifests itself in endless energy, jumps and shows of strength beyond a super’s regular ability, getting back up from injuries that should’ve put you down. It’s first and foremost used internally. Deactivation on the other hand, well." Marshmallow Muffin’s voice trails off, but Tsuna doesn’t need it spelled out.

"I thought killing intent was a manifestation of the will to kill?"

"Isn’t it?" Marshmallow Muffin lazily gestures towards Tsuna’s forgotten cupcake. "Deactivation… to slow down an enemy’s reaction time, their lungs’ ability to process oxygen, even their heart muscle. To have the focus needed to wield this energy consciously in the middle of a battlefield, you need to want to kill your opponents. You need to want it so badly it's all you see, takes up your entire focus, crystallizes the world around you. That's easier to achieve when you want to kill than when you "just" want to slow someone down. Stronger emotions lead to stronger results. And well, there's also the fact that the term killing intent is pretty self-explanatory. Supers tend not to need much direction when employing it even when they use it for the first time. They either have the will to pull it off or they don’t, but they don’t need to understand the underlying mechanics to make it work."

Marshmallow Muffin has pulled out a green napkin from somewhere and methodically rips it into tiny pieces. Bit by bit. "When you think about it, isn’t that the most fearsome part of our nature? That destruction comes so easily to us when knowledge and understanding doesn't. Though I suppose that makes sense. After all, we were _made_ to be weapons."

Tsuna swallows. _That’s the past_ , he could say. _We’re a different generation, living in another time_. But even unspoken the words leave a stale taste on his tongue and he decides to let the statement pass uncommented instead. "None of that tells me how to help Xanxus."

"It wasn’t supposed to."

"Can you just tell me how to fix him?"

"Tsu-chan, I have no idea how to fix Xanxus di Vongola." Marshmallow Muffin laughs. To his credit, he stops once he catches sight of what must be a pretty stricken expression on Tsuna’s face and rolls his eyes instead. "I can hazard a guess though."

" _Please_."

"Still so awfully polite. But fine. I assume that dear Xan-Xan has near equal amounts of activation and deactivation energy, meaning that both his internal systems were about equally developed when he got shock-frosted. Being overexposed to a high-density, high-intensity dose of deactivation for years would have definitely fucked up their equilibrium. He’s likely overdeveloped his internal activation network to keep up with the constant deactivation radiation surrounding him while his natural deactivation network has withered away from lack of use. That kind of imbalance fucks with all sorts of things, the body, the brain, the mental state, even perception or the senses."

"That sounds bad." Tsuna preemptively winces at his own idiocy, but Marshmallow Muffin doesn’t seem bothered.

"It’s like not moving one leg at all while completing an eight hour daily exercise regime with the other one for eight years and then trying to walk on both of them again." Marshmallow Muffin looks way too amused for their topic of conversation, but considering they’re having this conversation even though he doesn’t owe Tsuna any answers, Tsuna is willing to overlook that. "How did Xan-Xan get out?"

"I kind of broke the false ice?"

"… of course you did." Marshmallow Muffin shakes his head, hair flying in all directions. "So shock-defrosted too. That must’ve been tough on his body. Maybe I haven’t give him enough credit if he’s managing to stay upright and appear coherent in spite of all that. What’s the symptoms that worry you so much?"

"He’s suffering seizures." Tsuna feels guilty exposing what must be very personal medical information to a potential enemy of Xanxus’, he does, but there’s no point in stopping now. Besides. If he manages to help Xanxus, it will be a moot point. And if not Marshmallow Muffin already knows enough to do damage where it matters. [Kami, he’s a far too trusting idiot, isn’t he?] "They keep coming back and they don’t stop unless I make them."

Tsuna shudders. Recalling the day he came back to Xanxus’ apartment to find the man on the floor, twitching, blood dripping from his mouth where he’d bitten through his lip in an attempt to keep quiet is all too easy. Tsuna still doesn’t know how long he’d been lying there before Tsuna had found him. "I’m worried that one day I won’t be around to help and the intensity of the attack will kill him," he confesses.

"Hold up. What do you mean you 'make them stop'?" If Marshmallow Muffin’s suddenly laser-sharp attention wasn’t enough of a clue that Tsuna has missed something — again — the way he straightens in his seat, the sad leftovers of his napkin fluttering forgotten to the floor, certainly is.

"The first time I witnessed one of Xanxus’ attacks I wanted to help him, obviously, because it wasn’t getting better and I thought he was dying so I kind of surrounded him in a sort of flame. I’m not sure how I did it that first time but whenever I do it his body calms down again after a while. It just- It doesn’t fix the underlying issue. It’s a band-aid I can slap on, but it doesn’t seem to help him heal at all and I can’t keep him shrouded in flames for the rest of his life!" Tsuna gesticulates wildly, unable to keep the frustration at how useless he feels contained any longer.

"No," Marshmallow Muffin breathes. "No, it wouldn’t. Show me that fire of yours, Tsunayoshi."

The casual mention of his full name jolts something in Tsuna. It’s the first time since they’ve begun this whole BFF-spiel that Marshmallow Muffin has called him that and Tsuna doesn’t understand what that means. He doesn’t waste time contemplating it either, simply closes his eyes and _breathes out_ until not-flames dance along the fingers of his right hand.

"Remarkable."

Marshmallow Muffin reaches out, leans all the way over the kitchen table, only to stop a few centimeters outside the range of the not-fire. "And dear Xan-Xan has let you touch him with that?" It’s not a question and Marshmallow Muffin doesn’t wait for an answer. "I truly haven’t given him enough credit then. Who’d have thought."

Tsuna assumes he must look as bewildered as he feels because Marshmallow Muffin shoots one glance in his direction and starts laughing again. "Oh Tsu-chan, you have no idea, do you? That—" he points to the fading not-flames that flicker out of existence as Tsuna’s concentration wanes, "—is a dense external manifestation of activation. It’s the diametral opposite of the deactivation that was used to contain Xan-Xan. Two sides of the same coin really."

"But then why doesn’t it help?" _Shouldn’t it counter-balance the overexposure to killing intent? Shouldn’t it help Xanxus’ body to readjust?_

"Help?" Marshmallow Muffin giggles. The sound lacks the usual sweetness of his carefully upheld charade. "If you give a starved man a rich meal, it won’t fix his malnourished body. If anything his stomach won’t be able to handle the sudden change and he’ll be in agony. Which is actually a bad analogy, considering dear Xan-Xan’s internal system likely contain too much activation and not enough deactivation to keep him going. Maybe buying fish would be more accurate: You don’t throw them straight into the water of your aquarium, do you? You leave them floating in a nice plastic bag for a while, let them grow accustomed to their new surroundings, the difference in temperature, everything."

There’s a bad feeling building deep within Tsuna’s stomach and the manic light in Marshmallow Muffin’s eyes, the way his gaze remains fixated on Tsuna’s right hand even though the not-flames are gone, does little to ease it.

"Obviously that slow acclimatization is a lost cause, given that you already broke the ice trap," Marshmallow Muffin continues with a shrug. "Now this is all just guessing and conjecture, mind you, I’ve never heard of anyone being trapped in such a way, never mind surviving it — though it gives me a good idea where the inspiration for Vongola’s newest drugs stems from — but I’m gonna assume those seizures are Xan-Xan’s internal systems trying and failing to rebalance themselves, to adjust to the radical difference in their surroundings. Your little interventions shock his system back into stillness because you’re overloading him on activation — impressive feat, by the way. Short-term that _should_ keep his own body from killing him, but long-term it fucks his own networks up even more. He doesn’t need more activation, he needs less of it. Honestly, with what you’re putting him through I’m a little impressed Xan-Xan’s still alive. Must have one hell of a will to survive, that one."

"'What I’m putting him through'?" Tsuna repeats numbly.

Marshmallow Muffin stills. Actually stills. It might be the most concerning thing Tsuna has seen the supervillain do so far.

"Ah, well." He _hedges_. Correction. That’s the most concerning thing Tsuna has seen him do so far. "This is activation we’re talking about Tsu-chan. It’s not harmless. It’s not a cure any more than deactivation is a poison. Activation externally applied the way you’ve done it — it’s been speculated, you see, scientifically, I mean, but I don’t think anyone has ever tested it in practice…"

"Please. Just tell me. Whatever it is, it has to be better than what my mind is making up right now."

"You’d think that wouldn’t you?" Marshmallow Muffin chuckles awkwardly. The sound is jarring, wrong on so many levels. "At its core, deactivation stills. It puts everything to an end. People pass out all because they don’t receive enough oxygen, because they panic when they subconsciously feel their body failing them, because if there’s enough will behind it, they die. Activation does the opposite, obviously. It drives everything on, faster. To a certain point that’s good, dead useful even. But you can only accelerate so much before you lose control of any vehicle. Before you overload a mind with information, before you cause brain bleeds and let hearts explode. In Xan-Xan’s case you weren’t targeting a specific body part, so those outcomes are fairly unlikely. But what do you think happens when you set every single cell in the human body alight with energy simultaneously? Energy that it doesn’t need, can’t use, but has to go somewhere, to do _something_?"

For the first time since they’ve started this conversation, Marshmallow Muffin is completely serious. "That’s either one hell of a kinky sensation play or — unfortunately far more likely — every interrogation specialist’s wet dream. A real-life cruciatus curse if you will."

 _What_ , Tsuna wants to say but lacks the air to get out anything more than a weak wheeze.

"I know, I know. I’d give poor Xan-Xan a break, if a healthy dose of KI wasn’t good for his wretched little soul. But don’t feel too bad about it, Tsu-chan, you’re heart is in the right place. Even dear Xan-Xan can see that or he’d have made his displeasure known already, so clearly you haven’t fucked up that bad. Maybe he appreciates it, natural talent for torture does get its own kind of respect you know? And while we’re talking about it, I’m amazed that Vongola or one of its rivals hasn’t come up with something similar already," Marshmallow Muffin prattles on in a deliberately soothing voice while pouring a new cup of tea and insistently pressing it into Tsuna’s shaking hands. "I’ve yet to come across any weapon some mad genius hasn’t tried to improve even further. And I should know. I’m usually the mad genius in question."

* * *

78.

It’s Friday. Tsuna would cry in relief that the week is finally almost over and done for, but it’s been less than twenty-four hours since his and Marshmallow Muffin’s disastrous tea party in the Varia’s kitchen and he still feels numb.

[ _Natural talent for torture_ still echoes in his mind in endless circles. ~~_Kami-sama what has he done_?~~] Going by the fact that Belphegor hasn’t once threatened him with a knife and Leviathan stalked him all the way back to the Vongola Inc. Headquarter this morning, never mind Hana’s concerned looks, Tsuna assumes he looks as terrible as he feels.

At least he now has a better idea of what’s wrong with Xanxus. As well as a plan on how to fix it, which Marshmallow Muffin helped him draw up. After helping Tsuna overcome his panic attack. Which was actually really sweet. Huh. Maybe they really are friends. [He’s finally lost his mind, hasn’t he?]

The thought is a cold comfort when weighted against the fact that Tsuna’s been making the man’s condition worse. Sure, he didn’t know any better and neither did anyone else, but Tsuna could’ve _killed_ Xanxus and the fact that he didn’t mean to wouldn’t have made him any less dead.

No one — not even Tsuna himself — protests when Mochida-san sends Tsuna home after lunch to 'get some fucking sleep, Sawada, I mean it', which drives home just how bad he must look. Just this once Tsuna is grateful for it. He’s honestly not sure he would’ve made it through the afternoon without breaking down. He still isn’t, but at least this way none of his colleagues will have to watch.

With a lackluster wave and quiet goodbye, Tsuna trudges home. He half-expects one of the Varia members to kidnap him, but by the time he turns the forth street corner without running into a familiar face, he’s been lulled into a false sense of security.

Which is why it shouldn’t come as a surprise when Tsuna rounds the fifth corner and comes face to chest with Chikusa.

Tsuna freezes.

They’re in one of the smaller backstreets Tsuna favors because of the lack of traffic and obstacles to run into. Right now, he dearly regrets that approach because Tsuna isn’t ready for this. He doesn’t know why Chikusa would seek him out but he can’t handle it. Not right now. Maybe not ever.

~~When he closes his eyes he can still feel the blood on his skin.~~

"Tsuna-kun," Chikusa greets him in the same even tone of voice he always uses. ~~The same tone of voice with which he sentenced three people to death right in front of Tsuna’s eyes.~~

"What are you doing here?" Tsuna chokes out. He can’t bring himself to say Chikusa’s name. Not right now. Not when it would ring hollow, would sound foreign and false.

[" _You used to call me Kusa-kun._ "]

Chikusa wears a grey beanie that Tsuna gifted him to his last birthday. It feels like forever ago.

"Mamma called. She told me you couldn’t make it to family lunch this Sunday. Something about too much work." There’s no question in Chikusa’s bland tone but the way he takes Tsuna’s undoubtedly awful appearance in feels like a physical invasion somehow. Tsuna trembles with the urge to turn and run.

There’s a reason he’s cancelled on his mother for the first time in years and it’s not because of work. Of course it isn’t. Chikusa must know it too. [It’s because Tsuna couldn’t stomach the idea of seeing Chikusa again so soon. Because he didn’t know how he’d react. They’re standing across from each other, less than a meter apart, and Tsuna’s no closer to the answer now than he was a couple of day ago when he made that call.]

Tsuna opens his mouth. He wants to say "I’ve been busy." Wants to say "Oh, now you show up." Wants to say any number of things, all of them so painful, Tsuna’s chest aches where the words have carved out a place for themselves in the hollow underneath his collarbone, most of them true. What comes out instead is: "You took my memories."

It’s perhaps the first time he’s ever seen Chikusa caught of guard. And maybe if Tsuna was someone else, he’d be pleased by the sight of it, by the way Chikusa rears back, eyes wide.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I’m talking about." Tsuna balls his hands into fists. "You let Rokudo Mukuro fuck with my mind. You fucking _begged_ him to!"

He’d have screamed those last words if Tsuna didn’t feel like he’s choking on them. [He’d been barely awake, somewhere between dream and restlessly resting. Only remembers snippets of the argument conversation even now. But he remembers that much. Too much, perhaps.] Like they’re chains of iron wrapped around his chest, drawing tighter with every breath he takes.

"How do you know that?"

No 'I’m sorry'. No 'Please forgive me'. Tsuna doesn’t know why he expected any different. [Why does it still hurt?]

"None of your fucking business!" he manages to bite back.

Chikura furrows his eyebrows. "Tsuna-kun—"

Tsuna jerks back, out of reach if not out of sight. "No." He shakes his head, ignores the way his voice shakes, the way his eyes burn. "No, you don’t get to call me that. Not after everything you’ve done. The least you can do is drop the pretense now!"

"Pretense?" If anything Chikusa looks confused and that makes it worse somehow, makes everything so much more real.

"That you care." Tsuna laughs, except it doesn’t sound like a laugh at all. "The only person you’ve ever cared about are Ken and Rokudo. I’ve always known that. I just didn’t think— I didn’t think you’d go that far. My mistake I suppose."

"I was trying to protect you."

" _Protect me_?" The words are like a slap that slowly burns itself underneath Tsuna’s skin, brands him. "You took my memories away without even asking me. Who died and made you god, huh? _Who gave you the fucking right?!_ "

Chikusa doesn’t answer. [Not that there is a justification, a small, vicious part in the back of Tsuna’s mind thinks. But. He doesn’t even try. ~~Why doesn’t he try?~~ ]

The rest of the world filters in gradually. A car honks somewhere far away, the noise muffled like Tsuna’s head is underwater. A couple of school girls on the other side of the street are watching them with wide eyes. So is Chikusa.

Tsuna swallows. His throat aches although he doesn’t remember screaming.

After a long moment where Chikusa watches him as though Tsuna is a wild animal he doesn’t know how to calm, he finally speaks. "I don’t understand."

"Of course you don’t." Tsuna _laughs_. He must sound crazy, he _is_ probably crazy because at some point he sinks to his knees right there in the middle of the street and he’s still howling with laughter — or maybe that’s tears? — and he just _can’t stop_.

By the time he stumbles back to his feet with the help of a worried girl who hands him a tissue without a word, Chikusa is long gone. It does nothing to ease the persistent ache in Tsuna’s chest.

* * *

79.

Tsuna comes home. His skin itches and feels two sizes too small where the tears he doesn’t remember crying have dried on his cheeks and the whole world feels a little out-of-focus and not quite real, but he makes it. Without getting kidnapped by the Varia even, which shouldn’t feel as much of an accomplishment as it does.

So. Tsuna makes it home, unlocks the door and immediately re-locks it behind him. He’s fine, mostly, unhurt at least if emotionally exhausted and all he really wants is to fall into his own bed for once and sleep until he feels like a human being again.

And he would. Nothing is stopping him. Nothing but the unsettling feeling that he’s forgotten something important.

Oh well. It’ll come to him.

And indeed it does. For less than three minutes later Tsuna’s internal contemplation on whether he should shower first or head straight to bed is interrupted by a gun shot that shatters the vase Chikusa gifted Tsuna when he moved into his first own apartment. ~~Good riddance~~.

Tsuna would scream, but frankly he’s too exhausted to care about potentially getting murdered inside his own home. Turning around he spots the Arcobaleno Reborn — that was what he’s been forgetting, oops — who’s lounging on Tsuna’s not particularly comfortable couch like a big cat after a satisfying hunt.

"Well, well." He drawls. "Look who’s finally made it home. Do you know what time it is, young man?"

* * *

80.

Tsuna wakes up. Slowly at first except. There’s a certain sense of wrongness, an insistent feeling of this isn’t where I fell asleep and suddenly Tsuna is wide awake, adrenaline and fear flooding his system because it’s not safe. His bed is supposed to be safe and it isn’t, he knows that, has always known that even when he didn’t understand why, so _why doesn’t he ever learn_?

The bedroom is unfamiliar in every sense. The walls are painted in a soft beige and the bed feels soft enough that Tsuna thinks he could sink straight through the mattress foam and never resurface. Under different circumstances, that is. There’s a small bedside table with an old-fashioned lamp and a novel that Tsuna vaguely recognizes. The blinds are closed but from the faint light peering through around the edges, Tsuna guesses it must be late morning already.

He doesn’t remember the last time he slept that long uninterrupted. Especially not after a day as emotionally upsetting as yesterday. _Drugs then_. The stone sitting stubbornly inside his stomach seems to gain an additional kilogram of weight.

Slowly Tsuna sits up. The world doesn’t turn too much, so after a moment he carefully slides out of the way too comfortable, _not safe_ bed. There’s no bitter aftertaste on his tongue, no lingering headache, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Still, so far Tsuna feels fine. No suspicious aches, no slower than normal reactions. His walk towards the door is as steady as is typical for him — so not that much, but at least he doesn’t land flat on his face. Small mercies.

With one deep, forcefully calm breath, Tsuna presses the door handle down.

The door swings open. No alarms blare.

[Not out loud. Inside Tsuna’s mind is a different matter altogether. What kind of kidnapper doesn’t go through the effort of restraining their hostage properly? Not the good kind, that’s for sure.]

The hallway outside is as bland and unfamiliar as the room Tsuna’s woken up in. He follows it past two closed and locked doors towards a large staircase, the thick red carpet on the ground swallowing the sound of his footsteps. There’s voices coming from downstairs.

For a moment, Tsuna considers breaking one of the windows inside his bedroom and getting out that way. It’s what a sane person would do. The guidebook says so. _Take no unnecessary risks. Don’t play the hero_.

Unfortunately for his life expectancy, Tsuna is just about done with people fucking with him and his life without his consent. His mind might still be a little sleep-addled, but Tsuna remembers last night. Remembers the nerve-wrecking confrontation with the Arcobaleno Reborn — and why won’t that guy back off and leave him alone? — and most importantly he remembers falling asleep in his bed.

Someone has kidnapped him out of his own bed. And that’s. Thats. ~~Don’t think about it~~. Unforgivable.

Therefore, instead of doing the sensible thing, Tsuna walks slowly down the stairs and follows the sound of an escalating argument into a small kitchen crowded with way too many people. Familiar people.

It hadn’t registered before, what with the blood rushing through him drowning out all other sounds, but Tsuna should’ve recognized those voices. Shouldn’t have been surprised either.

"Look at that, sleeping beauty awakens!" Lussuria squeals from behind where Leviathan is failing to throttle Belphegor.

Xanxus looks up from where he appears to be drowning himself in black coffee. There’s dark lines under his eyes and Tsuna feels another stab of guilt somewhere in the squishy parts of his heart where the knowledge that _even when he tries to help he still makes everything worse_ refuses to stop gnawing on him.

"Voi, watch the damn knives, shitty shitty!" Squalo snaps from where he’s standing over the oven, defending two huge frying pans.

"Did you kidnap me from my bed," Tsuna says, not asks. He doesn’t mean to. Or no, he does. He thinks he does anyway.

Xanxus is watching him with something sharp, something _wary_ that Tsuna has never seen directed at himself before. Only under the weight of the other man’s gaze does he realize he’s clutching the doorframe tight enough the wood creaks in protest under his fingernails. But even with that awareness Tsuna can’t force himself to let go, can’t risk it because—

He doesn’t know what he'll do if he doesn’t cling to the door. He doesn’t know but it won’t be pretty.

"The prince was bored," Belphegor states, either much less adapt to reading the room or simply not caring. "The fluffy peasant had an entire evening to himself to decompress like agreed. The pretentious false king doesn’t get to complain about this."

"I am." Tsuna stares straight ahead. He’s not seeing Belphegor. He doesn’t really see anything. "You can’t do that. You can’t just kidnap me out of my bed." His voice is calm but only just.

Lussuria’s eyebrows are slowly drawing together, but before the man has the chance to say something, Belphegor finally turns his back on Leviathan to give Tsuna a puzzled look, so reminiscent of Chikusa it hits every single crack in Tsuna’s composure, and says: "The prince can do whatever he want."

Glass shatters against Belphegor’s forehead. It takes Tsuna a full three breaths to realize it wasn’t Xanxus who threw it. And that he’s warm. That his entire body is on fire.

It’s not a cause for concern. At least Tsuna doesn’t think it is. He feels weirdly calm, like it’s not really him in control anymore. Like he’s just guiding some virtual avatar through the motions, from some far away, removed place where this world can’t touch him.

"No." He says or maybe hiccups, grabs another glass, unperturbed by the way the world blurs around him, the stupid, useless tears that just keep coming. "No, you fucking _don’t_."

* * *

81.

It’s half past twelve when Tsuna stumbles back through the door of his home. The home he shouldn’t have left at all. The home that should be empty.

Somehow he’s not surprised to find Skull greeting him, dressed in the same purple apron he wore the last time and wearing a friendly, welcoming smile that sort of sticks to his lips even as he takes in the sorry figure Tsuna with his red eyes, blotchy skin and shaky hands makes. [He probably looks a hell of a lot more alive than anyone else would after a full on mental-breakdown-slash-temper-tantrum inside the Varia’s newest hideout, but he can’t afford to think that right now so he doesn’t.]

"Welcome home, Tsuna-kun," Skull says softly and doesn’t make a move to step closer. "You look like you’ve had a hard day. Do you want me to leave?"

Maybe it’s the fact that Tsuna knows deep in his bones that Skull would leave immediately if he told him to. Maybe he can’t bring himself to care anymore because caring is exhausting and it hurts and Tsuna is so, so tired of hurting.

He shrugs.

Drinks the water Skull hands him. Goes to wash his face when Skull tells him to. Refuses to go to sleep ~~because his bed isn’t safe~~ even if he can’t put it into words. Lets himself gently get situated on his couch, covered under first one, then two blankets. Drinks another glass — fresh orange juice this time — when Skull offers it to him.

The radio plays country music in the background, cuts through the unbearable silence and eases some tension Tsuna hadn’t even registered. Skull is moving around in the kitchen, humming along to the songs, and at some point that Tsuna doesn’t really register he drifts off to sleep.

[The only thing that follows him into his dreams is a little boy, offering to play hide and seek, and the phantom sensation of fingers gently carding through his hair. Like every night, Tsuna looks at the boy’s warm, bloody hand and takes it with a smile.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tsuna: Walks out of a room alive after throwing a glass in Belphegor's face  
> Entire Varia: OMG BEL HAS MADE A FRIEND AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL
> 
> Damn. I knew this chapter was gonna be long, but I didn't think it would turn out over 22k words of long. I'd say I'm sorry it took so long but with work and RL this really was as fast as I could deliver this monster. I could've split the chapter, but this entire section was supposed to deal with Tsuna's slow unraveling in response to the unveiled trauma, the way the memory blocks throw his relationship with Chikusa into question and the constant stress he's put under from all sides. And I couldn't help but add some violently domestic Varia in because that's good for the soul.
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter, so if you have the time, please let me know in a comment! Feel free to ask questions and please forgive the no doubt many spelling errors, I'm pretty sure my eyes don't see anything anymore. I'll go over this chapter again once I've recovered from binge-writing this chapter.
> 
> Wish you all a wonderful weekend, stay safe and take care of yourselves!
> 
> Also because I'm unashamedly in love with this universe and already adding way more world-building than I should, here a few more tidbits for those of you who are interested:
> 
>   * Iemitsu assumes Chikusa and Tsuna are dating because that's the only logical explanation he can come up with for why there's this kid he doesn't know at their family dinner.
>   * Concerning memory blockages: A lot of you were worried about Vongola fucking with Tsuna's head and I assume you expected a lot more memories to be uncovered than the three we got. Here's why this isn't the case: In this 'verse the invasion of a mind necessary to block memories, never mind rewrite personalities is incredibly damaging. Mental wounds are serious and if Mukuro had been even a little more inclined to harm Tsuna than he was, this story would've been much, much shorter. These consequences of even - fairly - benign mental attacks have led to a lot of prejudice, social stigma and fear regarding mentals. [In some countries they are hunted and killed.] They are also the reason why employees at Vongola aren't regularly scanned or tested for their loyalty.
>   * Keep in mind that this fic is very much limited POV. Neither Mammon nor Byakuran have any interest in divulging everything they know. Both of them also do not know the full truth about supers, their origins, their limits, their abilities etc. This means they can only tell the truth as they understand and know it and even that they share in a manner which benefits their personal goals and motivations. Neither is lying and neither has a reason to deliberately mislead Tsuna, but there's quite a bit that goes unsaid or is put into a different light than another narrator might have done. They are also as human as everyone else and blinded by their own biases.
>   * I didn't see it coming myself until I wrote this chapter but Chikusa is the scariest fucker in this entire fic - all the more because he doesn't mean to be - and none of you will convince me otherwise.
>   * Bykuran's gift is either to look at people and see their potential, all the what-ifs and could've-beens of what they could become or it is to make a perfect cup of tea. There is no middle ground.
> 



	8. All Roads Lead To World Domination If You Leave Your Insane BFF In Charge Of The Navigation System

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tsuna is done with everyone’s shit, Vongola Inc. finally gets hit by a clue — just the one though, all in good time — and Byakuran gives relationship advice. And yes, we should all be concerned about that last one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter: People [we don't care about] die. Mental health issues and unhealthy relationships, though nothing that should surprise you at this point. I'm pretty sure we hit the low point in the last chapter and are now slowly climbing back out of that hole but if I missed anything or you disagree please let me know so I can adjust this warning.

82.

They’re sitting in front of a hole the floor, somewhere far above ground level, dangling their feet in the air. The ground doesn’t feel too stable under Tsuna’s palms, a bit like a leftover piece of a cracker, easily crumbling under the right amount of pressure. He’s not afraid though. Not of the floor breaking away underneath his feet. Even if it did — even if someone pushed him from behind, shoved him straight through the hole in front of them — Tsuna would fall and that’s scary, but he wouldn’t hit the ground.

 ~~There is no ground to hit~~.

Next to him, the boy with the pretty eyes runs a hand along the jagged edges where the floor gives way to nothingness with a look of fascinated concentration. When he lifts his palm, there’s blood dripping down his fingers from a long cut. The boy traces the length of the wound with a curious hum.

"It’s easy to break things," he says. Clenches his hand into a fist — and that has to hurt, and badly too, but he doesn’t ease up. "You don’t have to understand things to break them."

Tsuna reaches out, takes the injured hand into his own. The boy lets him. Allows the tension in his muscles to relax. Watches as Tsuna carefully pries his fingers open.

"You need a band-aid," Tsuna decides after a long hard look.

"A band-aid?"

"That’s what you put on a cut or a splinter when you hurt yourself, so it’s protected and can heal in its own time." Tsuna rummages through his pockets. He usually has a couple of band-aids with him because Tsuna gets hurt a lot — tripping over his own feet and running into doorways, mostly — and it just seems easier for him to take care of it himself instead of running to the nurse or Kaasan every time.

The boy frowns, but patiently waits for Tsuna to carefully cover his cut in a series of little mermaid band-aids. They’re very pretty and colorful and Tsuna hopes they make the other boy happy when he looks at them too. As soon as Tsuna declares he’s done, the boy lifts his hand up to stare at the pictures up close, even poke one of the band-aids until Tsuna slaps his hand and tells him to stop.

"I don’t understand the purpose of this."

Tsuna shrugs. "It protects your weak parts so they can heal in their own time and shields them until the skin under it has grown strong enough it it can stand on its own and won’t need the help anymore. And it looks really, really awesome."

"Huh."

The boy tilts his head thoughtfully. Gives the hole in the floor in front of them, easily double the size of Tsuna and him combined, a measuring look. "I don’t think band-aids will be enough to fix this."

No, Tsuna supposes it won’t. He’s never seen a band-aid big enough to cover a hole larger than an entire grown-up. "That’s alright, I guess. I never liked this floor anyway"

"I’m sorry."

The boy isn’t looking at him as he says it, but Tsuna doesn’t mind. The boy isn’t very good at apologizing, but like with most things Tsuna is sure it’s just a matter of practice. His friend learns really, really fast.

"It’s fine."

"It’s not." The boy’s gaze lingers on the destruction around them. The shattered windows, the collapsed staircase, the flickering neon lights. "I don’t know how to fix this. I can’t— I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong."

There’s more packed in these words than Tsuna could ever hope to read out of them, so he doesn’t bother trying. Reaches out and entwines his fingers with the boy’s uninjured hand instead.

"You’ll learn. You’re the smartest person I know." Tsuna squeezes his hand. "You’re staying with me, right? We can figure it out together."

"Together," the boy repeats the word like a question, stares down at their interlinked hands with something a little more fractured than wonder.

~~When do you think Pinocchio realized for the first time that he _wanted_ to be a real boy?~~

* * *

83.

Tsuna wakes up with a crick in his neck. The skin around his eyes feels a little too tight, irritated and tender to the slightest touch, and the beginnings of a headache wrap themselves around the back of his head like an itchy scarf he can’t bring himself to take off just yet.

[He wakes up on the couch he fell asleep on, wearing the same jeans he didn’t bother take off the night before. They’re digging uncomfortably into the soft skin of his belly, have left all sorts of pressure marks on his skin that Tsuna traces absentmindedly as he pushes himself into a halfway upright position. An old Taylor Swift song plays quietly on the radio that no one has turned off, a soothing background noise interrupted only by the occasional clinking sounds of dishes being set down, running water in the sink and lighter footsteps than Tsuna himself could ever reasonably manage that are coming from the general area of the kitchen.

It settles something in Tsuna’s chest, a restless energy he hadn’t taken notice of before, to know that this world is the same one he fell asleep in. That nothing has changed, nothing has been shifted or replaced while he let it out of his sight for a few hours. It’s not safety — Tsuna doesn’t know if he’s ever felt safe, ~~not since he’s been small enough to be thrown up into the air, not since hands where supposed to catch him and they _didn’t_~~ — but it comes close.]

A brief glance at the digital clock above his TV tells Tsuna that it’s too early to be awake. Especially on a Sunday.

[A day that once meant staying in bed until the early afternoon, wearing nothing but comfy sweatpants and shirts two sizes too big for him, watching cartoons and drawing himself a nice, relaxing bath every once in a while. A day that once meant being all on his own meant being alone.

 ~~And Tsuna hated it, hated the phone that never rang and the messages he didn’t have anyone to send to and the knowledge that he could disappear tomorrow and wouldn’t even be missed, hated the empty spaces he didn’t know how to fill. And. He still does that. Hates being alone. But he _misses_ it too.~~]

It’s tempting, so very tempting to burrow himself back underneath the tantalizingly warm blankets and and drift in the odd serenity of this morning for however long it lasts before real life inevitably catches up with him.

 ~~Probably in the form of an excruciating, bloody death at Belphegor’s hands~~ —

No. _Hell_ no.

Tsuna’s not dealing with that, not yet. He isn’t ready to recall the events of the past twenty-four hours. Can’t bring himself to think of the conversations, the confrontations that are sure to come. [If there’s anything you learn as a lowly Vongola Inc. trainee, it’s that the aftermath is the worst part of any battle.] Confrontations that probably need to happen, going by Tsuna’s embarrassing meltdown.

But. Tsuna can’t do that yet. Can’t face up to everything that’s happened, everything he’s done. Can’t focus on the confusing mess of emotions swirling up and down in his chest, unwilling to settle. Can’t panic and wallow in self-pity and regret about his life choices.

He will. Of course he will. Just— not right now.

So instead Tsuna embraces his Nana-inherited power of denial once more and pushes it all aside. Calm mornings have become a rare good in his life, so Tsuna is going to cling to the illusion of this one until it burns to crisps in his hands.

 _Just you watch him_.

With that in mind, Tsuna closes his eyes, listens to the soft sound of Skull singing to himself in his kitchen and stretches languidly. Unsurprisingly this leads him to misjudge the width of his couch and he falls off it with a startled yelp, only just catching himself before his forehead slams against the couch table. But hey, it doesn’t hurt and the flood of adrenaline shakes the last, most stubborn cobwebs inside his mind loose for good, so it’s all good.

"You okay?"

Credit where credit is due: Skull tries very, very hard to keep the amusement out of his voice. If Tsuna didn’t catch the way his lips twitch traitorously, he might have even believed it.

"Just wonderful."

"Well, you do look a little more alive." Leaning against Tsuna’s kitchen table, arms crossed lightly over his chest, Skull is the picture of relaxation — or would be if it wasn’t for the intense look with which he’s inspecting every inch of Tsuna’s face.

Tsuna isn’t sure if that’s a compliment or not, but when in doubt Nana’s manners tend to win out, so: "Thanks?"

Skull shakes his head. "Come on, your floor isn’t that comfortable. Besides the Great Skull-sama doesn’t make breakfast for just anyone, it would be a shame to see it go to waste."

There’s a bit of that sparkle surrounding the Arcobaleno as he rolls his shoulders and waves Tsuna over towards the table that Tsuna has come to associate with his show persona — or super villain persona as the case may be.

[Tsuna could question why the Great Skull-sama is in his apartment at all, never mind why he stuck around a numb, post-breakdown Tsuna to apparently watch over him and make him more food. But that seems like an ungrateful response. Besides Tsuna is pretty sure he doesn’t want to know. Not yet at least. This whole why-are-you-all-breaking-into-my-apartment thing is undoubtedly a conversation he needs to have at some point — just not now.

Not when he still feels— he doesn’t know how he feels.]

Tsuna sits down at his table instead and lets Skull do his thing. Usually he would offer to help him carry everything to the table, but he can’t be bothered right now and Skull doesn’t seem to mind. It’s only when he’s placed the deliciously smelling food in front of Tsuna that Tsuna notices there’s no second plate on the table. Nor does Skull join him. He simply hangs up his bright purple apron and gives Tsuna another one of those long, thoughtful looks.

"Would you like the Great Skull-sama to keep you company, Tsuna-kun?"

Tsuna opens his mouth but finds he doesn’t know what to say. Hesitates. Thinks about it, which requires more effort than it probably should. Shrugs.

Skull’s grin softens. "In that case the Great Skull-sama should be on his way. Evil doesn’t rest on Sundays and it seems to this particular supervillain that rest is something you desperately need."

He leans over the table, slowly, telegraphing every movement, to reach out and gently squeeze Tsuna’s upper arm. The touch is steady and sure and gone before Tsuna can decide how he feels about it.

Skull is already at the door when he suddenly pauses and turns back around with an unusually serious look on his face. "And Tsuna-kun? Whatever troubles are bothering you, they can wait to be dealt with until tomorrow." Then his lips part, easily shape the wide, obnoxious smile Skull-sama is so well known for and he winks. "Everyone knows the good guys are always late to the party."

Tsuna doesn’t realize he’s laughing until long after Skull is gone.

* * *

84.

"Alright Sawada, this train wreck has gone on long enough. It’s time to fess up. What the _hell_ is wrong with you?"

Tsuna stares wide-eyed at Hana who is still dressed up in full battle gear, sweaty hair sticking to her forehead, a bloody cut on her left cheek and the edges of a mean-looking bruise blossoming on her cheekbone from a hit she shouldn’t have taken in a fight they weren’t even supposed to be in, and is also currently blocking his way back to the office.

"I- err, don’t know what you’re talking about?"

Hana raises her eyebrows. If there was a patented facial expression to convey unimpressed disbelief mixed with exasperated second-hand embarrassment for the terrible lying skills of your fellow humans it would be the look on Hana’s face.

"You wanna try that again, Sawada? You’ve spent the last three days flinching every time someone enters our offices, dropped five cups of tea, not including the two Miura managed to save, have burst into tears when Mochida yelled at you and just now you _dropped your taser_ with a scream when I yelled "Freeze!". For the record, when I say "Freeze!" I mean the people we’re arresting, not you." Hana flicks her short ponytail over her shoulder with an annoyed huff. "Look, Sawada, everyone’s got off days, you more so than most. And sure, I can’t think of a single person less suited for this job than you are, but it’s a free world and none of my business what you do with your life, so I make it a point to stay out of you shit. But when you stop being unhelpful and start being an active danger to the team’s safety, that’s when it starts being my business. I’m the last person you want to start analyzing your questionable life choices, so I’m gonna ask again and you’re going to be upfront about whatever the fuck the problem is: What the hell is wrong with you?"

Tsuna has known Kurokawa Hana since primary school and he hasn’t heard her curse like this since Kyoko-chan managed to set their science experiment [and Hana’s sleeve] on fire during their last year of high school — an incident that led to the entire school building being evacuated.

It’s odd to think that of all the stupid things Tsuna has done since his first day at Vongola Inc. today of all days is the one that finally causes Hana to snap. Not that Tsuna hasn’t been especially useless today, even by his standards. Hana is definitely right about that. At the same time, well, Tsuna has had worse days too. No one has even gotten injured yet.

Nevertheless the uncompromising set of Hana’s shoulders makes it clear that answering her question is not optional. "I-"

Tsuna pauses. Thinks of the many, many ways in which he could end this sentence. The many perfectly honest responses that he can’t say out loud because Hana would either not believe them or — worse — she would. There’s very few problems that Tsuna can admit to having in front of one of Vongola Inc.’s cleverest operatives, but there are some. As long as he leaves out the messy parts in the middle.

"I got into a fight with my brother," is the sort-of completely true response Tsuna settles on.

"I didn’t know you have a brother."

"You never asked."

"Touché." Hana’s mouth quirks, but her eyes don’t lose any of their intensity. "Anything you want to talk about?"

That at least is one question Tsuna can answer with one hundred percent honesty. "No."

"Fair." Hana purses her lips and rubs absent-mindedly at the dried blood on her cheek. "Your family issues are none of my business, Sawada. So get your head screwed on straight and focus or get yourself benched again, I honestly don’t care. But you can’t continue like this or someone will get killed and it might not be you. Do whatever the hell you need to do, but don’t force me to get myself involved in your personal business because neither one of us will be happy if that happens, got it?"

Hana’s eyes burn, all focused willpower and _if there is no way I will_ ** _make_** _one_ turned up to 100, and Tsuna can’t help but think that this, this must be activation in its purest form.

[He can’t help but think that it’s no less terrifying than Marshmallow Muffin’s glittering eyes, the glint reflected on Belphegor’s knives, the all-encompassing darkness intensifying around Mammon’s unremarkable shape.

 _Superhero and supervillain_ , he thinks, _are terms that never fit quite right_. ~~Because if they did. If they did. What would that say about him?~~ ]

"I will, Kurokawa-san."

Hana hums, unconvinced. Tsuna wonders what she sees when she looks at him like that. "See that you do."

* * *

85.

It’s sometime after Skull has left, after Tsuna has eaten half the delicious breakfast and put the rest away to be devoured at a later time, when the full impact of Tsuna’s breakdown finally hits him. There’s no fog that is lifted from his mind, not really. One moment Tsuna is shampooing his hair and the next he’s resting his forehead against the cool tiles, only just resisting the temptation to smash his forehead against it again and again until the memory of his meltdown _stops_ replaying in the back of his mind.

Tsuna literally walked into the Varia’s kitchen and started smashing their dishes, all while screaming and shouting and cursing at them at the top of his lungs and bawling his eyes out. It’s fucking _embarrassing_. He can’t even recall the exact words he used — though there were a lot of insults and curse words mixed in there — and he probably didn’t even make sense for most of it because his memories are anything but coherent. But Tsuna remembers the itchy wetness of dried tears on his cheeks, remembers the way his eyes burned and the world blurred.

Remembers Belphegor’s blank expression when that first glass hit him in the face and Xanxus’ twisted expression when Tsuna ripped his arm out of his grip. Remembers screaming "DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME!" even when _none of them_ were anywhere close to him.

Fuck but Tsuna had been beyond reasoning, beyond listening, beyond making sense. He’s not even sure he made it clear what precisely his problem was. Looking back, Tsuna isn’t even sure what his problem was.

Okay no. That’s not true. Tsuna distinctly remembers the sick feeling clawing at his gut when he realized that someone had kidnapped him while he’d been sleeping, had carried his unconscious body out of his bedroom. Remembers the panicked, disorienting sensation of waking up in a place he didn’t fall asleep in.

And. It’s not logical. Not really. Tsuna’s been kidnapped plenty of times as of late. He’s had his personal space and his apartment invaded. He’s been stalked and watched and dragged around and even though Tsuna’s agreed to precisely none of that, none of it has bothered him in the same way. None of it has hit as deep, has unsettled things that Tsuna has spent years and years carefully building up into a semblance of order and stability.

Tsuna groans. Loudly.

If it doesn’t even make sense to him, it sure isn’t going to make sense to the Varia. He doesn’t know why none of them killed him for it, but since they didn’t they all have to live with the consequences of his freak-out. Which means sooner or later — knowing their patience really fucking soon — they’re gonna blow his door open and demand an explanation. One Tsuna can’t give them.

Wonderful.

Just. Fucking. Great.

[Tsuna isn’t sure if his inner voices always used to curse this much, but he’s fully willing to blame the Varia for this development. Knowing them, they’d probably be proud.]

Alright. Focus.

Tsuna can’t change the past. Can’t do anything about the way he acted batshit crazy and embarrassed himself in front of a group of real-life assassins. So, priorities. First things first, he really needs to get out of the shower before they invade his apartment. Tsuna has embarrassed himself enough for the week, he does not need to get his bathroom broken into on top of everything else.

So Tsuna takes a deep breath and another one and one after that and does exactly that. It doesn’t make him feel any better or stop him from rolling his eyes and cringing at the actions of his past self, but it’s a start.

It’s only when Tsuna is dressed in a clean set of comfy home clothes, hair mostly dried and standing up in every direction, once again sprawled out over his couch that it occurs to him that he never even told the Varia about the possible treatment methods for Xanxus he and Marshmallow Muffin had discussed during their shared tea time. Which, great. Now he doesn’t just suffer the second-hand embarrassment of his stupid, over-emotional meltdown, he also has deal with the guilt of letting his own hurt feelings get in the way of Xanxus’ recovery.

That’s just perfect. He really is winning every price on the front of being a _decent human being_ this week.

Tsuna grabs a couch pillow, buries his face in it and screams. It doesn’t particularly help, but at least his chest feels a little less like it’s being pressed inside a pickle jar. Small victories and all that.

Okay. Okay. It’s not that big of a deal — or so Tsuna tries to convince himself. The Varia will show up the way they always have and Tsuna will apologize for making a fool of himself and calmly and without smacking himself explain that he does _not_ like to be kidnapped while unconscious. Then he will tell Xanxus everything he and Marshmallow Muffin have discussed and hope that the topic of his meltdown never comes up again.

Or, failing that, that Belphegor kills him quickly.

It’s a fool-proof plan. Or at least Tsuna spends the better part of the day convincing himself of that fact and uncompromisingly suppressing the unpleasant memories of his failure to act like a composed human being, never mind a fully-trained Vongola Inc. operative.

Tsuna stays up until half past eleven before he finally gives in and goes to bed, still half expecting the Varia to drop down on top of him out of nowhere.

But they don’t. No one does. Tsuna falls asleep trying to convince himself that that’s a good thing.

* * *

86.

On Monday morning, Tsuna wakes up to a bright, eye-searing shade of pink. The color is so unexpected that Tsuna forgets to panic about his location, even though it takes him a full three minutes to convince his still half-asleep brain that he is in fact still in his own bed, the exact same place where he fell asleep in last night.

It takes him another four minutes to process the fact that someone — and he’ll have a suspicion on who that someone is as soon as his brain has woken up enough to deal with this mess — has apparently covered his entire ceiling in one huge, glaring pink poster covered in hearts, thumbs up emojis, smiley faces and glitter, titled "How To Set Healthy Boundaries With Your Supervillain: A Practical Guide For Beginners" with— Tsuna squints and yep, those are detailed step by step instructions. There’s also an orange note above his door that reads ' _Standing up for yourself like a total badass? Hells YEAH! :D I’m so proud of your progress, Tsu-chan, you grow up so fast! Your one and only BFF xoxo_ ’ which rather gives the identity of the culprit away.

Forty percent of Tsuna’s brain wonder how Marshmallow Muffin of all the socially stunted supervillains he knows has come up with a set of instructions to lay the groundwork for a healthy relationship. The other sixty percent are busy hoping the bastard hasn’t been painting Tsuna’s ceiling while he was asleep two meters below because that is a level of creepy that—

Actually, that’s the level of creepy Marshmallow Muffin generally tends to strive for. Tsuna wonders if the supervillain recognizes the irony in the difference between his advice and his own actions. Probably not. Self-reflection isn’t what one would call a typical supervillain trait.

Then again Marshmallow Muffin isn’t your typical supervillain, so you never know. He might get a kick out of it.

Tsuna it’s the leftovers of the breakfast Skull made for him yesterday on his bed while musing on the workings of the insane, brilliant mind of Marshmallow Muffin and going over the instructions his potential best friend has left for him.

[Maybe all those encounters with some of the world’s most dangerous supervillains have skewed with his common sense but ' _draw clear lines in the sand and defend them with any and all means available, including but not limited to tears, insults, threats, acts of physical violence, guns, knifes, explosives, chemicals and other harmful objects, weapons and substances_ ' doesn’t sound so bad when it’s written in glittery letters on a bright pink background. The 'i’s are even dotted with little flowers.]

* * *

87.

Monday passes without a single supervillain encounter. So does Tuesday. Neither the Varia, nor Marshmallow Muffin, the Arcobaleno or even Chikusa intrude upon Tsuna’s unremarkable everyday life.

It should be a good thing. It _is_ a good thing.

Tsuna tells himself that again and again. Even reminds himself of point five on Marshmallow Muffin’s list which is ' _stand firm, do not give in and do not concede anything you aren’t prepared to give up because your mental and physical wellbeing is more important than your supervillain’s potentially hurt feelings_ '.

The knowledge does nothing to combat the sick, twisting feeling that keeps growing in the pit of Tsuna’s stomach.

* * *

88.

The lack of intrusive supervillains in his life — which, don’t get him wrong, Tsuna is very happy about that, it doesn’t make him feel _nervousanxious_ ~~ _abandoned_~~ at all — means that Tsuna suddenly has nothing but time to relive his disastrous last encounters with the Varia and with Chikusa in his mind over and over. To contemplate what he could’ve said instead, how he could have acted differently, better. How he feels about them.

That last one especially is a tricky question to answer. Not so much with the Varia — Tsuna has a pretty good idea how he feels about them, despite their unfortunate habit to kidnap and or terrify him, none of them answers he could ever put onto his Vongola Inc. application form — but Chikusa is a different matter entirely.

Chikusa is— just different.

Tsuna doesn’t know how to put into words how or why that is. He doesn’t even know if he understands it himself, if he knows what he’s feeling. In all honesty, he probably doesn’t. It’s too much of a back and forth inside his own head, in between outraged screams and accusations and plain, old hurt ~~betrayal, Nii-san _why_~~ and. Well. Understanding.

That’s the thing. The real problem. Tsuna does understand. He does get it.

[That first time with Mukuro isn’t Chikusa’s fault. It’s not even Mukuro’s fault. It. They were kids. Mukuro was raised in a lab. And Tsuna doesn’t know what was done to him, doesn’t know how much of it is Vongola’s fault, if there were other traumas before them, if maybe Mukuro was always heading this way, but he remembers the boy with the pretty eyes and he remembers knowing, understanding even back then that the boy was _broken_.

That there was something inside Mukuro that wasn’t as it should be, didn’t connect as it was supposed to and that during the course of their somewhat-friendship Mukuro didn’t get better. He got better at faking, at pretending. ~~At understanding how different he was~~.

Tsuna doesn’t blame Mukuro for what he did back then. He’s not even sure if there is anything to blame him for. Mukuro didn’t make Tsuna sneak down to meet him and he never even asked for Tsuna to free him. He didn’t hurt Tsuna either. Not on purpose. And even when he cracked something inside Tsuna that wasn’t supposed to be touched, he still did it with the intention to _protect_.

That matters. Doesn’t it?

Either way, Tsuna isn’t angry about that. He doesn’t even know how life was before Mukuro tore up his mind — if Mammon is to be believed — so it’s hard to be upset about that part too.

But then that very first incident isn’t the problem. The problem is that it wasn’t the last.]

Chikusa _saved_ Tsuna. Rescued him when he got kidnapped, yes, but that wasn’t the first time and it sure wasn’t the last. Chikusa was there for Tsuna through some of the worst years of his life. He was the first person since Nana who _looked_ at Tsuna, who _saw_ him. The first one who ever _listened_ and thought what Tsuna has to say mattered. That Tsuna mattered.

Chikusa has always protected Tsuna, since back when he first came to live with them and couldn’t look at Tsuna without keeping one hand on an easily accessible weapon. And. That’s what he’s done back then as well. Tsuna got kidnapped and Chikusa rescued him. [Like Tsuna knew he would. There was never any doubt about that. Only about whether Chikusa would _make it in time_.] He was brutal, he was cruel in that casual disregarding way of his that Chikusa doesn’t even understand is cruel and that too isn’t a surprise. Tsuna isn’t fourteen anymore. He knows Chikusa has done things that would give him nightmares for years if he knew about them and he knows that Chikusa isn’t bothered by any of them.

[ ~~There’s certain things you cannot create in a lab. Things like kindness, things like care, things like empathy and humanity. Children learn by example and how do you teach someone to be human when you cannot acknowledge that that is what they are?~~ ]

And the thing is: Tsuna has no doubt that when Chikusa had Mukuro erase his memories of that incident at fourteen, he was doing it to protect Tsuna as well. There was nothing there that he’d have deliberately hidden from Tsuna — if only because it wouldn’t have occurred to Chikusa that violent murder is something to be hidden. [He’s better about that now. About acknowledging that killing is not socially acceptable. Maybe Tsuna’s reaction is what prompted him to pay more attention to the social norms he used to disregard so completely.]

That doesn’t ease the hurt. The sick feeling rolling back and forth in Tsuna’s stomach that he can’t pinpoint the cause of. ~~Good intentions don’t make it alright. They don’t even make it better.~~

Tsuna doesn’t know what to do with that revelation. And that’s not even touching on the incident where Mukuro blocked Tsuna’s memory of helping Ken heal.

[Although that makes even less sense than the previous ones. Tsuna’s helped Chikusa and Ken out before, many times even and they’ve never bothered with any of the mental blocks. That time Ken had been worse off, but other than that there’d been nothing noteworthy about the situation. If Mukuro hadn’t revealed himself, Tsuna wouldn’t have even noticed him.]

The only logical conclusion is that that third time it wasn’t Tsuna they were protecting. It was themselves. ~~Ken~~. Which would mean that Chikusa didn’t trust Tsuna to keep quiet. Didn’t trust Tsuna period.

Somehow that realization hits deeper than the feeling of betrayal did.

* * *

89.

On Wednesday, Tsuna’s lunch break is interrupted by in impromptu visit from Marshmallow Muffin who takes one look at Tsuna’s bento and spends the next ten minutes scolding Tsuna on his lacking self-care and the appropriate nourishment for an active Vongola Inc. operative.

Tsuna is so relieved to see the supervillain again — if only as visual proof that he’s not going crazy and hasn’t hallucinated the past two months of his life like he’s half-wondered since that Saturday from hell — that he forgets to be freaked out by the surreality of the experience.

Though that does get harder to do when Marshmallow Muffin slides a mostly blank paper over the table that’s titled ' _Tsunayoshi’s Non-Negotiable Boundaries_ '. There’s plenty of space underneath that title and Marshmallow Muffin even had the foresight to bring various colored pencils with him.

"Just think about it, sugar pie." The villain smiles so wide it stretches over his cheeks, misses the mark on 'friendly' and goes straight into the 'creepily threatening' territory, where it makes itself at home. "You’ll need to set some ground rules sooner rather than later, Tsu-chan. The longer you wait, the harder you will have to fight for them."

By the time Tsuna looks up from the paper, a not fully formed question on his lips, Marshmallow Muffin is gone. The only thing left behind is a steaming cup of tea.

Like always it tastes delicious.

[Tsuna spends far more time than is probably reasonable on that list. And decidedly more time than his employer would like him to. But Vongola Inc. will just have to deal and by the end of the day Tsuna, despite all his conflicting feelings regarding the various supervillains in his life, feels pretty damn good about his list. Even if it is pointless and he’ll never show it to anyone, even if it won’t ever mean anything.

There’s just something about putting the convoluted mess of emotions wreaking havoc on his inner balance into words, on putting those words onto paper, that gives them a weight, a significance they’ve lacked until then. It feels like a start.

When Tsuna wakes up the next morning, the list is gone.]

* * *

90.

On Saturday morning, Tsuna is awoken at a quarter past six in the morning by an insistent knocking on his door. Not the door to his apartment, mind you. His _bedroom_ door.

Tsuna very seriously considers burying himself underneath his blanket and hoping that whoever the hell has seen it fit to bother him at this hour, on his free day no less, magically goes away. The knocking doesn’t abate. If anything it gets louder and more insistent.

Tsuna blearily stares up at his bright pink ceiling and wonders where he went wrong in life. "Maybe they’ll go away if I just don’t get up," he murmurs encouragingly at himself.

"I wo-on’t, but it’s simply adorable that you think that, Tsu-chan!" Marshmallow Muffin sing-songs through the door that clearly isn’t as soundproofed as it should be.

Tsuna whines. What is it with supervillains and ruining his sleep? Granted the last week has been suspiciously villain-free on his personal scale, but clearly that grace period has just run out. Somehow Tsuna doesn’t think he’s appreciated the break as much as he probably should have.

With another one of those soul-deep sighs he’s perfected since his ordinary life has been invaded by supervillains, Tsuna slowly slides out of bed, pulls on a pair of fuzzy socks from his drawer and wraps himself up in his favorite soft blanket. He’s not gonna let Marshmallow Muffin hurry him. Not at twenty minutes past six in the freaking morning, what the hell.

"Aww, don’t be like that, Tsu-chan!" Marshmallow Muffin pouts through the door. It’s probably not a good sign that Tsuna can imagine that pout as though he were looking right at it. "You know the early bird catches the worm."

"That would impress me a lot more if I wanted a worm in the first place," Tsuna says drily as he finally pulls his door open. "Which for the record: I don’t. What are you doing here?"

He yawns wide enough to make his jaw crack, then promptly adds: "At this time no less?"

"Wow." Marshmallow Muffin puts his hands on his hips. "Is that any way to great your favorite best friend in the world after he’s went through the trouble of cheating like your sweet, naive hero-heart wouldn’t believe to get the first available time slot on your villain day before the Varia or worse an Arcobaleno could get their hands on it?"

Tsuna blinks at Marshmallow Muffin. Goes over the words one more time. Tries to process them.

Fails.

"What?!"

"Exactly!" Marshmallow Muffin nods empathically as he slings an arm around Tsuna’s blanket-covered shoulders and pulls him towards the couch. "You wouldn’t think any of those grouches would get up before noon, why do you think I put most of those slots in at ungodly times no sane human being would want to take?"

"I don’t understand what you’re talking about." Because apparently it’s necessary to make this announcement.

"Oh, Tsu-chan." Marshmallow Muffin shakes his head with a small smile. "Your list of boundaries requires a minimum of and I quote ' _three supervillain-free days a week_ '. It would be a nightmare to keep an eye on everyone else all the time, so we’ve configured a google calendar where everyone can sign up for pre-defined time slots with you in advance. You know, to avoid murder, kidnappings and over-bookings, those are always a pain."

"What."

"Oh, don’t you worry! We’ve taken your day job into account." Marshmallow Muffin waves off. "There’s a program that collects all current data on super movements to predict the amount of likely supervillain encounters you’ll have in any calendar week during work to avoid unintentional overcrowding. Depending on the amount of days you’ve already encountered supervillains the bookable appointments will be adapted or shifted towards the next available opportunity. I’ve tweaked the algorithm a bit, but it’s decent work for something I didn’t come up with. Once we’re out of beta test phase, I can think of quite a few other applications for that lovely little idea."

" _What_."

* * *

91.

It’s one of, if not the worst mission Tsuna’s been on in his entire career as an active Vongola Inc. operative. Unsurprisingly it happens within his first month on the job.

There’s no specific point in question where the mission wheels off-course, no clear mistake or fuck-up, no one person responsible. Just a series of bad decisions, worse timing and terrible coincidences all conspiring against Tsuna’s team from the moment they receive the call.

It starts with the fact that they try to arrest the wrong bank robbers, which leads to a tense hostage situation and an even tenser inter-agency fight with the local forces. It ends with Tsuna, alone, no weapons, no protective gear, trapped in a run-down warehouse with two dozen hostiles who are not at all eager to return Tsuna safe and sound into Vongola Inc.’s care because trading his own safety for the civilians in the bank seemed like a good idea at the time.

It’s a bad idea. All the more so because it turns out these particular bank robbers don’t operate alone — and they have ties to super-trafficking. They also have a bunch of supers locked up in their storage unit that they talk about like they’re animals for sale.

Tsuna doesn’t know what part of that train-wreck of an unexpected twist disturbs him the most. Actually, he does. It’s the guy they’ve got chained up in the very corner, an inch or two taller than Tsuna and twice as broad, who even naked and chained down and muzzled does a good job of screaming dangerous with every pore of his body. Or maybe that’s just the murderous glare that fixates on Tsuna with uncanny [ ~~predatory~~ ] intensity.

All too soon, the male appears to lose interest in Tsuna — or more likely categorizes him as 'not a threat’ — and his gaze slides to the left, eyes narrowing and jaw muscles twitching. There’s something like hatred in that expression, something savage and unrestrained, and Tsuna thinks he understands why his captors have tied this one down with twice the restraints that hold down the other victims. Tsuna himself would very much like not to be in the same country as that level of focused bloodthirstiness the male is exuding, never mind the same room. And he’s not even the guy’s target.

A shove between his shoulder-blades reminds Tsuna of the super-traffickers that he should probably be focusing on, considering they may well sale him before Vongola Inc. stops arguing with the local authorities for long enough to remember they’ve sewed trackers into all their operatives’ uniforms and rescue him. Tsuna stumbles forward, tripping and slamming his head against the wall because even without bound hands he’s never been the most coordinated person.

Someone’s laughing and someone else is cursing. Tsuna doesn’t pay them any mind.

[He can’t afford to. If he does— If he does. He’ll panic. And he can’t afford to do that right now. Their coach was very clear on that point.]

Tsuna tastes blood on his tongue.

When he raises his head, he catches the wild male’s eye and for a moment —

~~there’s a boy in the container’s long shadows, giggles echoing in the abandoned hallway~~

— Tsuna blinks and the vague sensation slips like sand through his fingers.

"We don’t have all day, Vongola," one of the supposedly low-level bank robbers snarls.

Tsuna doesn’t know how to respond. Doesn’t understand what these people want from him. He’s trying to keep his breathing calm and not panic and not throw up on anyone’s shoes like a good hostage, isn’t that enough?

The kick to his stomach that punches all the air out of his lungs doesn’t agree with that statement. Tusna’s feels his eyes widen, instinctively tries to draw air into his lungs and even though he _knows_ that’s not how it works, that this is fine, that it doesn’t even hurt much, that he’ll be okay to breathe in a few seconds he feels the panic rise, feels the desperation clawing at the back of his throat, ~~something dark and desperate and determined to survive sliding like tiny little ice pricks through his veins~~ and it’s not rational, not sensible, but there’s a roar in Tsuna’s ears, a terrible noise that sears through his ears like a nail scratching over a chalkboard and a low growl, so deep it vibrates through his body, makes his very bones tremble and.

There’s the smile. Out of everything that happens in the four minutes between Tsuna’s spectacularly ill-timed panic attack and the moment Vongola Inc. operatives finally arrive on the scene, that’s the thing that stands out the most. It’s not a bad smile, as far as smiles go, all wide and big, stretching lazily in between bloodied and torn lips. The teeth are a little off-putting, as large as Tsuna’s palm and sharp enough to tear out a human’s throat, but they gleam prettily in the limited light.

There’s probably screams too — it’s hard to imagine a slaughter of this magnitude to take place without screams — but if so Tsuna doesn’t remember them later. Perhaps he was screaming. Perhaps he was laughing.

 ~~Perhaps the laughter is only inside his head~~.

The male looks at him from across the room. There’s deep gashes on his forearms, his chest, from where he’s torn himself out of his bindings. One deep, dark red wound on his shoulder that looks like it’s well on its way to infection and also a bit like the skin is knitting itself together right before Tsuna’s eyes. His eyes are bright yellow and Tsuna doesn’t understand why his first thought is ' _Odd, I thought they would be red. Or maybe blue._ ’.

"P-Please!" one of the no-longer-very-effective captors gasps from the ground.

There’s a lot of blood there. Tsuna takes care not to look at him too closely. Or any of the bodies surrounding him, really. It turns out to be a good choice when the male snarls, a deep, animalistic sound that sets off every single flight instinct evolution has graced Tsuna with and stamps down on the man’s throat.

Hard.

The crack kind of makes Tsuna want to throw up when he thinks about it, so he doesn’t. He freezes when those unsettling, inhuman eyes refocus on him instead and for a long moment all Tsuna can think is that he hopes he’ll bleed out too fast to be in pain.

The male roles his eyes. "Don’t die until the Vongola bastards get here, interloper."

He’s gone before Tsuna can so much as squeak. Probably to spare them both the embarrassment of witnessing Tsuna’s inevitable breakdown. Which. Good call, really. Tsuna can’t say he blames the guy.

[Except, you know, for the murder of those two dozen super-traffickers. That one is a bit hard to forget. At least most of the other victims turn out to be either too unconscious or too drugged to be traumatized by their brutal rescue. Lucky them.]

On an unrelated note, Tsuna does not visit the zoo again until another supervillain attack forces him to.

* * *

92.

There is, in fact, a google calendar to coordinate Tsuna’s official supervillain appointments. It’s color-coded and anonymized to hell and back, but the thing Tsuna would really like to know is how in the world they know the date of his dentist appointment. That he hasn’t even made yet.

The only reaction a pointed question gets him is a disconcerting _I’m very amused by your continued ability to entertain me_ smile from Marshmallow Muffin.

* * *

93.

The next week is filled with a general uprising in supervillain attacks. Tsuna doesn’t check the calendar — he’s still determined to pretend it doesn’t exist — nor does he keep count, but he’s definitely not surprised when it takes until Saturday for any of his regular supervillain contacts to show their face.

Or faces as the case may be, considering said Saturday morning finds Tsuna stumbling out of his bedroom — which is ' _private, confidential and not to be accessed unless in dire, life-threatening emergencies_ ' as the poster that Tsuna definitely hasn’t placed on it proclaims in proud, bold letters — to find the Varia spread out all over his living room. Perhaps the most surprising thing is that nothing seems to be broken.

Yet.

Lussuria is stretched out on Tsuna’s couch, observing him calmly over the rim of his red sunglasses. Leviathan is in the kitchen — next to Squalo probably the safest choice — although going by his cursing he’s not impressed with the results of Tsuna’s latest grocery trip.

[In Tsuna’s defense: He had still been in a daze after pulling two all-nighters with his entire team to sort through over 50’000 rubber ducks, 1’000 of which were filled with enough explosives to level a small block. Still one of Tsuna’s least favorite assignments and he’s the guy who gets injured in the field when he isn’t even _on_ the field.]

Belphegor is sitting at Tsuna’s kitchen table, back bowed over a huge amount of paperwork, quietly muttering to himself. Tsuna makes a mental note to avoid that area and moves on. Mammon, as always the least threatening and thus likely most dangerous presence, is in their natural state of lurking near the small shelf filled with an assortment of books and nicknacks near Tsuna’s TV. Xanxus is sitting on his usual, throne-like chair in the middle of the room as expected — at this point that chair is simply the natural order reasserting itself in any room Xanxus resides in for longer than thirty minutes — having some sort of discussion with Squalo, who is sitting cross-legged on the floor, carefully cleaning a sword.

All heads snap around when Tsuna enters the room — which thanks a lot, no pressure or anything — with the exception of Belphegor, who is still occupied with the papers in front of him. He should probably say something.

"Uhm."

Well. Not particularly articulate, but at least it does express Tsuna’s feelings pretty well, so Tsuna’ decides to count it as a win.

"Well, well, look who has finally decided to join the world of the living and conscious." Lussuria smirks at him from where he’s calmly stretching out his arms over his head. "Good morning, Tsuna-kun."

"Good morning?" It sounds like a question, but Tsuna figures that’s only fair. He’s not awake enough to deal with any of this. "What are you all doing here?"

There. That sounds reasonably coherent, not to mention acceptably questioning for a question. Tsuna mentally pats himself on the back.

"Tsuna-kun!" Leviathan beams at him around the corner of his fridge. "You’re up! Sit down, sit down, breakfast’s almost ready!"

Which doesn’t answer Tsuna’s question but does give him a clear direction, so that’s at least fifty percent a win. Maybe sixty.

"Voi, the fuck do you mean 'what are you doing here'?!" Squalo scowls up at him from where he’s still sitting on the floor. "We made a fucking appointment with your shitty creep of a secretary, which by the way started _two hours ago_ like we were supposed to. We’re not fucking animals!"

There’s so much in that sentence that Tsuna feels like he should address but the thing that sticks out the most is definitely: "Hold on, you’ve been sitting here for two hours? Why didn’t you wake me up?" _By kicking in my door or throwing my TV out of the window_ , Tsuna doesn’t say because he does have some self-control and also because it’s early and that’s a lot of words he just doesn’t have the energy to say.

That gets him an actual bitch face. And not from Xanxus, the uncrowned king of bitch faces within the Varia — though even he would lose out to Hana, which is only natural considering it’s _Hana_ — but from Squalo of all people. Tsuna didn’t even know his face could reach that level of expressiveness.

"Unlike the shitty Neanderthal I can fucking read!" He points sharply into the direction of Tsuna’s room. With the hand holding his prized sword, only narrowly avoiding butchering Xanxus as he does so.

Tsuna blinks and turns around to look at his bedroom door. His perfectly normal bedroom door. That is covered in 'Do not enter' police tape and a sign reading ' _Tsuna’s to be respected at all times barring a real life-and-death emergencies* private room_ '. There’s also a piece of paper covering the lower third that is filled with a lot of words in tiny handwriting that appear to clarify what constitutes as a real life-and-death emergency and what does not.

Tsuna blinks again but the view doesn’t change. He’s almost certain he’s got Marshmallow Muffin to thank for this redecoration — what with 'No one enters my bedroom, especially not to kidnap me' being the very first boundary Tsuna wrote down on his list — but the lack of pink, orange and glitter throws him off a bit.

"Oi!" Leviathan snaps back, his massive frame bristling with offense. "I’ve got a degree in literature you fucking asshole!"

"Still didn’t stop you from trying to bulldoze past the tape!" Squalo shoots back while rolling backwards onto his heels to evade Xanxus’ revenge for his near-stabbing.

Leviathan’s eyes narrow dangerously which makes the care with which he sets Tsuna’s plate down in front of him all the more impressive. "You pushed me and you _know_ it."

Apparently breakfast is fruit salad, eggs and freshly-baked muffins. Kind of a weird combination that Tsuna’s never tried before but more importantly not one of his secret favorites. It’s weirdly comforting to know that Leviathan didn’t research his preferences — or at least hasn’t made it obvious.

It’s still a lot to take in. To think that the Varia have actually decided to use the calendar is kind of surreal. That the people who can’t go thirty minutes without destroying something have apparently spent the past two hours quietly in Tsuna’s living room so as not to wake him up, have not entered his bedroom because a sign told them not to—

That’s a lot. Like a hell of a lot.

And it shouldn’t be, right? Tsuna knows it shouldn’t be. It isn’t. It’s just common courtesy or something, but it just doesn’t feel like something small and meaningless. It feels huge, like a balloon has been placed inside Tsuna’s stomach while he’s been sleeping and now someone just keeps pumping more and more air into it.

"Tsuna-kun, are you alright?" Lussuria asks gently, thus interrupting the on-going bickering-slash-borderline-fight-to-the-death between Squalo and Leviathan.

"You’re crying!" Leviathan sounds horrified.

Tsuna raises one hand to his cheek, only for his fingers to come away wet with tears. Huh. He’s right. Tsuna _is_ crying. How embarrassing.

"Is it the food? Do you not like the muffins? Or the eggs? Oh my god, are you vegan?" The pitch of Leviathan’s voice rises an octave higher with ever question and Tsuna finds himself staring blankly in the face of the other man’s panic. What is he even supposed to say to that?  
Thankfully he doesn’t have to say anything. Xanxus nails his flailing subordinate in the face with a pillow with enough force to make the man stumble. He’s also signing something in sharp, impatient motions that Tsuna assumes means something along the lines of ' _He’s not fucking vegan now chill the fuck out and stop embarrassing me, trash_ ' only with way more expletives.

"T-The food looks great," Tsuna manages after a moment, although he has to clear his throat twice and awkwardly rubs his eyes. He doesn’t understand why he keeps getting so emotional about all these stupid things. He thought he’d gotten over the crying when he entered high school.

This in turn brings genuine tears to Leviathan’s eyes which has the benefit of making Tsuna feel better about his own, though no better about the awkwardness of the situation in general.

Thankfully that’s when Belphegor, who until now has been focused on his papers, rises from his crouched position and pointedly clears his throat.

"Sawada Tsunayoshi," he says formally and Tsuna is so shocked by hearing his real name from _Prince Belphegor_ ’s mouth that he freezes in place, "I apologize for intruding upon the privacy of your sleeping quarters without your permission. I realize that this action was inappropriate and did not adequately reflect the nature of our current relationship and I shall endeavor to not cross this line again."

Half of Tsuna’s brain is still stuck on the 'adequately reflect the nature of our current relationship' part while the other half is impressed by how ramrod-straight Belphegor’s posture is. "Uhm," he says intelligently. "Thank you for your apology."

"Of course." Belphegor nods all business-like. "Please consider filling out this form as soon as you are able so we may avoid similar occurrences in the future."

Tsuna stares down at the form Belphegor has pulled out of his mountain of paperwork. It looks kind of like a template for Marshmallow Muffin’s feedback survey on ' _How Would You Rate This Kidnapping Experience, Please Do Not Shy Away From Harsh Criticism. We Want To Be Able To Improve Our Services_ ’. That’s… definitely suspicious.

Still. Tsuna filled out Marshmallow Muffin’s form, so he supposes there’s no reason not to do the same for the Varia.

"Sure."

Somehow the Varia take this as an invitation to spend the rest of the Saturday hanging out in Tsuna’s living room, eating Leviathan’s food and needling each other needlessly. By some miracle nothing is broken, not even a member of the Varia. Also Belphegor keeps watching Tsuna with hawks-eyes and making little notes in a small book who’s cover Tsuna thinks reads ' _So you’ve decided to adopt Sawada Tsunayoshi, a self-help guide for emotionally-stunted supervillains_ '.

In all honesty? There are no words in any language to express _how much_ Tsuna doesn’t want to know.

Despite all that he manages to pull Lussuria and Xanxus aside for a little chat about potential treatment methods and to discuss the various suggestions Marshmallow Muffin and Tsuna came up with. It devolves into all seven of them sprawled out across soft cushions and blankets, arguing about a bullet point list of options while Xanxus threatens creative murder for every one of the more ridiculous suggestions they come up with.

[At some point Lussuria pats his head and Xanxus aggressively wraps him up in blankets and all in all, it’s not a bad Saturday.

Not a bad Saturday at all.]

* * *

94.

"No."

Tsuna doesn’t mean to for his voice to sharpen. He really, really doesn’t. It’s just. He’s tired. It’s been a long day at the office. Just paperwork, thankfully, but that just means that another super-powered villain will pop out of the woods — or far more likely the local university, always a breeding-ground for supervillains during midterms — and ruin Tsuna’s day. The one last week burned down Tsuna’s favorite gelateria because the crowd their newest milkshakes attracted was apparently too loud to focus inside the library on the other side of the street. Again, the woman burned down a _gelateria_. Tsuna was ready to set her on fire for that one. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly Hana got to her first.

Anyway. The point is, Tsuna is tired and annoyed and not in the mood to entertain Marshmallow Muffin. But he’s already had three supervillain-free days this week and Marshmallow Muffin is not one to miss a single minute of his "Tsu-chan time", so here they are. In Tsuna’s small apartment because unlike the Varia Marshmallow Muffin doesn’t make a habit out of kidnapping Tsuna to his various hideouts.

On the bright side, Marshmallow Muffin has served tea because of course he does. Tsuna has never seen the super without a snack and a drink at the ready and after that one incident with the cocoa, they’ve unanimously decided to stick to tea.

"But it’s a classic." Marshmallow Muffin pouts. Of course he does. You wouldn’t believe it, what with him being taller than Tsuna and his face being covered by a mask, but Marshmallow Muffin is a great pouter. It’s really unfair all things considered.

[Being adorable — in that useless, failing at life way — is one of Tsuna’s greatest strengths.]

"I don’t care. It’s a stupid movie and I’m not watching it." Tsuna sips his tea in the hopes that it will keep him from saying anything more on the subject. There’s no winning a discussion with Marshmallow Muffin. [The only way to do so is to keep him engaged until the deadline for whatever scheme he enacts has already passed or to keep him distracted while your squad members sneak up on him from behind. And even that rarely works.] More than that, Tsuna is not in the mood to get lectured on the merits of _The Godfather_. No matter how great and impactful it may be, Tsuna just can’t watch it without being reminded of the Ninth in the most uncomfortable, terrifying ways and that man is the last person Tsuna wants to think of right now.

[Xanxus’ progress is slow, but so far fairly steady. That doesn’t make witnessing his suffering while they’re trying to restore the balance between his internal systems any easier.]

"Aww, Tsu-chan, don’t be like that."

"I said no and I meant it!" Tsuna snaps. Winces, when he realizes how loud his raised voice sounds in the otherwise silent room.

Marshmallow Muffin watches him with a titled head and eerily glowing, orange eyes. "So you did." [The gleeful smile is audible in his voice and Tsuna doesn’t think he’ll ever understand this super.]

They end up watching _Finding Dory_ instead.

* * *

95.

Despite the official schedule, Tsuna spends more time with Marshmallow Muffin than with any other villain. It’s probably not a coincidence that Marshmallow Muffin has been behind the schedulebut Tsuna doesn’t intend to poke that particular sleeping dragon until he’s got at least an ocean between himself and the villain.

Not that such an inconsequential thing as physical distance would ever stop Marshmallow Muffin but that’s a whole other issue.

It’s not a bad thing per se. The Varia aren’t bad — are actually a lot of fun when they aren’t giving Tsuna a heart attack, which is like 80 percent of the time — but they’re very loud, rambunctious and emotionally draining. Also violent but that’s more of a character trait in their case. With the Arcobaleno Skull it’s more of a choice, really. Skull drops in and out whenever he’s nearby or in the mood, but he never stays for long. To this day, the only time he stayed over night was the night Tsuna had an emotional breakdown. Every other time he excuses himself sometime after dinner — or just cartwheels right out of Tsuna’s window.

Because that’s a thing Arcobaleno do when the mood strikes them. Or possibly just Skull.

[Reborn is another matter. He shows up when he wants and never ever uses the calendar to make an appointment. Although he also never drops in on Tsuna when he’s already occupied with other supervillains, so Tsuna’s pretty sure the villain is well-aware of the schedule. He simply enjoys scaring Tsuna out of his mind too much to bother with announcing his intention to visit.

 ~~The worst part is that the asshole is starting to grow on him.~~ ]

Marshmallow Muffin is a terrifying kind of crazy and half the time he mimes kindness in such a way that races straight past weird into just plain creepy territory, but he is solid and his presence more muted, less demanding on Tsuna’s senses than the others. Which is ironic considering Marshmallow Muffin exudes more _activation_ than the entire Varia put together — though Xanxus is climbing his way back into something that could almost masquerade as healthy in that regard — but he doesn’t pull and nip at Tsuna in that way that’s hard to quantify, hard to even notice and yet impossible to ignore.

It drives Tsuna mad when he thinks about it for too long.

On this particular Tuesday evening, Tsuna is curled up on his couch with the obligatory cup of tea and his comfy fuzzy socks that make him smile every time he curls his toes and feels the soft fabric against his skin. Marshmallow Muffin is stretched out over the entire length of the couch, feet resting in Tsuna’s lap, eyes closed, the picture of relaxation.

It’s surprisingly nice. Tsuna thinks he could get used to this. [ ~~Thinks he might already be.~~ ]

"You haven’t been at your mother’s house in a while," Marshmallow Muffin comments.

It’s not a question. He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t even sound all that interested. But that’s the thing: Marshmallow Muffin rarely asks a question outright and he never just happens to bring up a topic, never mind a topic like this one.

Tsuna feels his body tense and promptly berates himself for it because if there’s ever a reaction to give him away it would be this one.

"No, I haven’t been." At least his voice is steady.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Marshmallow Muffin still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Tsuna carefully exhales through his mouth, takes a sip from his tea to give himself the time to actually think about it. Marshmallow Muffin remains exactly where he is, no hint of tension in his body, no expectant look. Like he doesn’t care either way. It helps. Weirdly. To realize that— maybe Tsuna does want to talk about it.

Maybe he _can_.

So he does.

[Marshmallow Muffin, as Tsuna has learned over the past weeks, is a good listener. He hums and he nods and he never loses interest or interrupts and most importantly he doesn’t try to to tell Tsuna what to think or what to feel. He just listens with an attentiveness that is simultaneously flattering and concerning and sometimes when Tsuna runs out of steam, when he doesn’t know where to go or how to get the point across, Marshmallow Muffin just asks.

Until he understands.

And he doesn’t tell Tsuna that it’s fine or that he’s wrong or that that’s just how it is and he’ll have to accept that. He squeezes Tsuna’s hand and makes him another cup of tea ~~and offers to kill the people who bother him or the destroy the organization that makes Tsuna’s life harder than it needs to be~~ and sometimes, when Tsuna asks for it, Marshmallow Muffin gives him advice. It’s. Good.]

This time is no different. Marshmallow Muffin listens intently as Tsuna explains the blocked memories Mammon uncovered in his mind and what they contained — without giving away Mukuro’s or Chikusa’s villain identities, Tsuna is confused not _stupid_ — and the convoluted mess of feelings that have led to Tsuna screaming at Chikusa right out on the street and avoiding him ever since.

[Not that Chikusa has gone through much of an effort to seek Tsuna out.]

"Why are you avoiding your mother’s house?" Marshmallow Muffin eventually leads the conversation back to his initial inquiry while carefully re-filling Tsuna’s tea cup that he hadn’t even realized was empty.

Tsuna swallows. Fixates his gaze on a not particularly interesting spot on his ceiling. "I don’t want to run into him. I mean, I do— Just not right now. Not until I’ve figured out… I don’t know. Where to go from here."

"Hm. Couldn’t you just tell your mother? Or," Marshmallow Muffin continues seamlessly when Tsuna blanches at the suggestion, "tell your brother that he isn’t welcome there?"

"No!" Tsuna frowns at his own vehemence, but it doesn’t change how he feels. "He _is_ welcome. I don’t ever want him to feel like he’s not. Besides it’s not my house, it’s Kaasan’s and it wouldn’t be fair to either of them to ask them to avoid each other. I don’t want to make things difficult for them."

Marshmallow Muffin tilts his head a little, just enough to be able to look directly into Tsuna’s eyes. "What if _they_ want to make things easier for _you_? Shouldn’t that be their choice to make?"

"No, don’t do that thing where you twist my words around." Tsuna shakes his head, irritated despite himself. "What happened is between me and my brother. If Kaasan knew, she’d feel obligated to take a side and she’d feel bad for never noticing and that’s not fair to her. She couldn’t have known."

"Tsuna." Low and serious. Tsuna tenses, unwilling to hear whatever Marshmallow Muffin can possibly say if it’s in that tone of voice, yet unable to make himself turn away when the man reaches over to throw the comforter over Tsuna’s legs and carefully tucks it into place. "It’s not your job to protect your mother. She’s a grown woman who raised to young boys, one of which was deeply traumatized when she took over his care. She is capable of making her own choices, of handling stressful and hurtful situations and her emotional safety is not and has never been your responsibility. She is your mother, she likely still feels responsible for you even though you are an adult now and she cannot make informed choices in regards to your well-being if you do not give her the information she needs. Neither can she give your brother the support he might need to come to terms with his own actions and their consequences."

"I-" Tsuna doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. It’s difficult enough to figure out what to do about Chikusa, he doesn’t want to drag Nana into this as well. "I’m an adult now, like you said and this is between me and him. Can we please just leave it at that?"

"As you wish." Marshmallow Muffin sighs and lets himself sink back into the couch. "If not an honest conversation with your mother or a confrontation with your brother, what _do_ you want, dearest Tsu-chan? Avoiding your mother’s family dinners for the rest of your life is hardly a sustainable solution."

Ignoring the _smidge_ of sarcasm, Tsuna curls himself further into the cushions and considers. It’s a fair question after all. What _does_ he want? Now that he doesn’t feel as _shockedhurtraw_ anymore, Tsuna doesn’t quite know where that leaves him.

[What would fix this? What is even broken? ~~What if it’s not something you can put back together?~~ ]

"Well, let’s see," Marshmallow Muffin starts when the silence continues to linger between them. "You’re far too kind to desire the severed head of the offending party or to wish for their ripped-out heart wrapped up prettily with a bow on top of it. That leaves us with… hm. All the boring stuff, I suppose." Marshmallow Muffin sighs like the weight of the world is pressing down onto his shoulders. "So, what’s it gonna be, Tsu-chan? Your brother, crying and begging for forgiveness? A debt owed to you for every memory he had blocked? A heart-felt apology?"

Tsuna snorts. He can’t help it. "Sure. _That_ ’s gonna happen."

"Oh?" How Marshmallow Muffin can convey raising his eyebrows while wearing a mask remains a mystery to Tsuna — one he _will_ get to the bottom of. Eventually.

"It’s nothing, forget it."

"You know I never forget anything, Tsu-chan."

Tsuna closes his eyes and takes a controlled breath. Then another one when that fails to calm him. And really, why is he trying so hard? It’s not like Marshmallow Muffin of all people is gonna tell on him. Why would he?

"It’s just— he’s a lab-produced super." Tsuna twists the fabric of his comfortable, too-large sweatshirt between his fingers and resolutely does not look in Marshmallow Muffin’s direction. [There’s such a thing as taboo topics and then there’s the super labs. ~~You never know where a super you meet originates from.~~ ] "And I get it, you know? He didn’t— know how to be, you know, a functional human. Still doesn’t sometimes. And there’s just things I don’t think he really _gets_. And, and that’s what makes it so bad, you know? He’s never gonna apologize because he doesn’t understand what he did wrong."

Tsuna shakes his head and he’s laughing, but the pitch of it sounds off somehow. Choked. "I could see it in his face when I confronted him. He wasn’t sorry. And not just because he didn’t regret it but because he really didn’t get that there was anything to regret. He fucked with _my_ mind, with _my_ memory and he didn’t think even think there was something wrong with that! So no, he’s not going to apologize because he doesn’t understand that he _should_. And that just makes me feel even worse because I know that he doesn’t get it and I still can’t forgive him!"

"Tsu-chan," Marshmallow Muffin pulls his feet off Tsuna’s lap and pushes himself into a seated position. "Whether your brother acknowledges his mistake has no bearing on whether or not you forgive him."

"But he’s not refusing to admit that he did something wrong, he genuine doesn’t understand!" Tsuna drags a hand through his hair, only just resisting the urge to _pull_. "It’s _different_!"

"Not to you," Marshmallow Muffin says slowly. "You have to live with the consequences no matter his intentions or his grasp on the situation. Ignorance is no excuse. When a lab child murders another human being, does it matter that no one ever taught them that killing is wrong? It doesn’t bring the victim back to life. It doesn’t comfort those left behind and grieving. Your brother’s intentions might matter in how his actions affect your future relationship with him but they don’t affect the impact his decision had on you, your life and your mental state in the first place. He violated your trust. He blocked your memories without your consent. That he doesn’t realize your consent is required in matters concerning your own mind, never mind that you were a fourteen year old child and unable to agree to an invasive procedure of this nature in the first place does not absolve him of that disregard. That’s not something you _have_ to forgive, Tsu-chan. You _can_ , but it’s a choice. Your choice. No one can demand it from you and you can take all the time you need to decide whether you want to or not."

"But-"

"We are more than our origins, Tsunayoshi!" Tsuna blinks in surprise, caught off-guard by the full name Marshmallow Muffin never uses. But apparently he does now. "And your brother is more than a victim. Yes, he may be a lab child and that he is one will always shape him. But it doesn’t define him and he’s been part of your family since you were twelve years old. He’s been out. He’s been integrated into society, he’s attended school and been free to learn the way this society functions. You do him a disservice by reducing him to his childhood experiences, no matter how traumatic or how limiting they were. As a human being, your brother has as much choice and agency as each and every one of us. He’s used that agency every time he decided to protect you, not because someone ordered him to or raised him to be your bodyguard but because he wanted to and he’s used that same agency when he decided to have those memories and when he decided to kill your kidnappers instead of subduing them. He used that agency, that ability to choose and to grow and to learn to become a supervillain — and maybe his experiences in the lab played an important part in that decision and maybe they didn’t. But ultimately all those choices were made by your brother. They are not your responsibility or your parents or whatever dead scientists that first created him." Marshmallow Muffin’s eyes don’t just glow now, they burn. "That’s what two generations of supers spent all their lives fighting for, Tsunayoshi: That something created in a lab can have a free will of its own. That we have the right to live and the capacity to choose."

Marshmallow Muffin exhales, pinches the bridge of his nose. A clear sign that he feels like he’s let his rant get out of hand and it’s distorting the message he’s trying to get across. Or a sign of frustration with himself for proving, however rarely, that he does have that passionate, opinionated core deep inside him that drives almost every supervillain who isn’t certifiably insane because that kind of drive has to come from _somewhere_. [Is it weird that Tsuna feels closest to Marshmallow Muffin whenever he uncovers one of these little tidbits, the topics that make the other man sit up and talk, not because it’s entertaining but because he can’t bear not to?]

"But that’s not the point. The point is, your brother may have not been raised with an understanding for what consent means and why it matters and he may have been a child that first time, but he’s a freely acting adult now who is responsible for his own actions and for taking the necessary steps to inform himself if he doesn’t know something. By excusing his actions because of his childhood you deny him his ability to grow beyond those traumatic experiences, Tsu-chan. And that’s a terribly sad thing because the most human thing is that we always keep on learning and changing and growing."

Tsuna swallows. His head is ringing, swirling, an endless stream of thoughts and words and phrases and— he doesn’t know what to say, what to think. Marshmallow Muffin doesn’t sound wrong, passionate but what he says makes sense and Tsuna wants to believe him but —

He’s not sure what kind of conclusion to draw from any of it. Marshmallow Muffin makes it sound so simple, like you can just switch your brain around, adapt to a new perspective and call it a day, but that’s not how it _works_. Tsuna wants to agree, wants to accept Marshmallow Muffin’s words, but he’s not sure he _can_. He’s not even quite sure he understands what they mean right now because this, all of it, is— a lot to take in.

"I don’t- What do you think I should do?" Tsuna asks helplessly because even with everything Marshmallow Muffin has said, everything those words might mean — and some of that meaning could be earth-shattering, could be paradigm-shifting and Tsuna doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, doesn’t know if he can just _let go_ and — that still doesn’t tell Tsuna what to do about Chikusa right now. And Marshmallow Muffin won’t offer up advice unless Tsuna asks for it.

Marshmallow Muffin licks his lips and manifests a cupcake with ice-blue frosting in his head that he bites into thoughtfully. "If what’s bothering you the most is the fact that your brother doesn’t understand what he did wrong, then maybe you need to explain it to him. Or teach him or give him some other way to learn. Because, Tsu-chan, you know you’re my favorite BFF and there’s no one I wouldn’t kill for you, but this might not be something murder will fix. And if you don’t help your brother understand where he fucked up, he’ll likely do it again — in a different way perhaps, but with the same result. So if you don’t want to cut him out of your life — which is totally an option I vote for and I’ll even take over the cutting if you don’t want to get involved in that — the best way to clear the air and set new boundaries that you both feel comfortable with is by addressing the issue at its roots."

Tsuna’s head is resting on Marshmallow Muffin’s shoulder. He’s not sure when he placed it there or when Marshmallow Muffin wrapped his arm around Tsuna’s shoulders but it’s warm and comfy and Tsuna isn’t gonna move any time soon.

And. He could say a lot of things. Things like 'okay but how in the world do I do that' and 'did you read up on couples' therapy guides again' or even 'why do you make it sound so easy I hate you for that but I also love you'.

What actually comes out is: "Why do you have to make everything about murder?"

Which has the benefit of cracking Marshmallow Muffin up and thoroughly derailing their conversation when he insists that "Every problem no matter how complex can be solved with the right murder at the appropriate time, Tsu-chan, have I taught you nothing?!" which sparks a long-standing argument and it’s only when Tsuna’s eyes slip closed for the fourth time and he realizes that Marshmallow Muffin’s arm is still firmly wrapped around him that it occurs to him, somewhere in between sleep and content drifting—

This must be what having a best friend feels like.

[The next morning, Tsuna wakes up to three books on consent and why it matters, learning how to set healthy boundaries and how to be respectful of other people’s boundaries in everyday social interactions and the sanctity of the mind and the consequences of invading it on his bedside table.

There’s something burning in his eyes but it can’t be tears because when Tsuna stumbles into his tiny bathroom and catches sight of himself in the mirror his smile is _blinding_.]

* * *

96.

Xanxus’ first spoken words after being frozen alive for nine years are "Shut the fuck up, trash."

[His voice breaks on the 'trash'.]

Leviathan bursts into tears. He then promptly tries to murder Tsuna via grinding his ribcage to dust in between his arms.

* * *

97.

Tsuna is on his way back from the grocery store, carrying two large bags because unlike before he now has to be prepared for the occasional visitor and Belphegor in particular goes through all kinds of salty snacks that crunch when you chew like he’s getting paid by the piece. Lussuria really enjoys apple juice and Xanxus doesn’t say anything, but although he’s sick of soup and oatmeal it’s still less straining for his throat so Tsuna likes to have some of it on hand. The Varia sure don’t because Xanxus would shoot them if he thought they were getting soft on him.

Some day some poor, unfortunate soul will have to confront Xanxus about that complex — and it sure as fuck won’t be Tsuna.

He’s contemplating which confrontation’s results would be more devastating — Lussuria vs. Xanxus or Levi vs. Xanxus — when someone steps directly, purposefully into his path. Tsuna reflexively takes a step to the left to avoid the sudden obstacle only to come to a stop when said obstacle moves with him.

That move catches his attention. With a slight head-shake Tsuna tries to clear his mind and focus on the immediate situation. Which appears to be Chikusa confronting him in a narrow side street suspiciously empty of uninvolved third-parties.

Wonderful. And a little unexpected.

Chikusa hasn’t sought Tsuna out since their last conversation. If Tsuna’s honest, he’d expected that trend to continue, for Chikusa to wait until Tsuna reaches out to him. Apparently he was wrong about that too.

"Chikusa." Tsuna greets slowly, surprised by his own steadiness. He’s been imagining their next meeting for a while, has tried to picture how he’d react to seeing his brother again, head still covered in the familiar blue beanie Tsuna knitted for him two years ago, face as blank as it was during their last conversation — and every conversation before that. Expression has never been Kusa’s strong suit. Somehow the idea of it doesn’t measure up to the reality. For one Tsuna hadn’t expected that even caught by surprise he would feel so— calm.

[Not _ready_ , not quite. But. Close enough.]

"Hello Tsuna." Chikusa buries his hands in the pocket of his oversized sweatshirt — a habit he picked up from Tsuna — that likely used to belong to Ken. There’s no weapons visible on him, not that Chikusa needs them. But the pose screams non-aggression and besides even at his worst, Tsuna has never genuinely believed that Chikusa is a threat to him.

[That’s his _brother_ they’re talking about. Chikusa may have fucked up and Tsuna isn’t sure if _trust_ is something they will ever be able to fully recover between them but that doesn’t erase everything they are to each other. ~~Tsuna is starting to think he may not want it to.~~ ]

"I didn’t expect to see you again so soon," is what comes out when Tsuna opens his mouth to belatedly return the greeting.

"I didn’t plan to," Chikusa admits, which, color Tsuna shocked. Not. "But I wanted to say goodbye."

And that. That just doesn’t compute.

"Excuse me?!"

Chikusa shrugs. "We’re leaving. There’s nothing here for us anymore."

"Nothing here for you?" Tsuna echoes faintly. "What— You can’t just leave! What about Kaasan? What about _me_?!"

Chikusa blinks as though surprised. "You don’t want me around. I make you uncomfortable." There’s no condemnation, no accusation in those words. It’s a simple fact because Chikusa naturally doesn’t see anything wrong with saying things like that. Acknowledging them like they are just the way things are, like they are no reason to be upset or hurt. "So I’m leaving. Mamma knows I’ll be traveling, she won’t worry."

Yes, because _that’s_ Tsuna’s biggest concern here. "You don’t get to just get up and walk away!" he bursts out because that’s just it, isn’t it? That’s at the core of it, the hurt, the indignation, the growing _anger_.

[Chikusa doesn’t get to give up on their relationship, he doesn’t get to make that decision. _Tsuna_ is the wounded party here and Chikusa isn’t the one who gets to decide to remove himself from Tsuna’s life. If he goes it’s because Tsuna kicks him out and _no one else_ , damn it!]

"Tsuna," Chikusa says in that _why are you like this, I do not understand you_ tone that never fails to annoy him. "I don’t need you anymore. And I think you don’t need me anymore either."

Tsuna flinches. Because _that_. That’s a worse blow than any physical hit could’ve ever been. That’s— That—

"Don’t look at me like that Tsu-kun." Chikusa frowns, something like confusion or distress flickering over his expression but sliding off before it can stick. His hand moves as though to reach out the way he used to when comforting Tsuna after a terrible day at school before he aborts the motion and suddenly the distance between them feels unbridgeable. "It’s a good thing, I think. Humans—" Chikusa’s frown deepens and this is an expression Tsuna knows well. This is the familiar frustrationhis brother feels when trying to express a thought that doesn’t translate well into words, that doesn’t compute to him because he doesn’t know how to share it. "Humans aren’t supposed to need each other. Want perhaps but not need."

"But I don’t want you to leave me!" Tsuna exclaims because _I want you to stay_ isn’t something he can bring himself to say. Not when he’s not even sure it’s true yet. "You can’t just, just run away!"

Chikusa takes a small step towards Tsuna, head cocked sideways like a curious puppy. The increased closeness makes Tsuna hyperaware of the weight of his attention, the way his gaze drags over each and every inch of Tsuna’s face, takes in every twitch of his facial muscles. "I’m not running, Tsuna. This city — it’s never been home. It’s never been _ours_. It’s Vongola territory and there’s a limit of what even we can accomplish here. The only reason we stayed as long as we did was because of you and that was never a permanent solution. It’s time to go. That you want me gone helps, but it’s not the sole reason or even the main one."

Tsuna grimaces but doesn’t deny it. Without the initial shock it’s easier to admit that Chikusa is being too honest for the both of them. Because Tsuna does want him gone right now. Because that makes it easier and because despite his conversations with Marshmallow Muffin on the topic, Tsuna still isn’t sure what he’s supposed to feel about all of this or where to go from here. Still. He doesn’t want to lose Chikusa. And.

He still wants to have that choice. To make it. [Once he’s ready.]

"You’re my brother," Tsuna whispers because he wants Chikusa to know that. Even. Despite everything. That’s important.

A car honks in the distance but the real world feels far away when Chikusa’s lips twitch into an almost smile. "You’re important to me, Tsu-kun," he murmurs, calm and matter-of-fact because that’s Chikusa expressing himself in the only way he knows how to. "If you do not want to see me again, you won’t."

"And if I do?"

This time Chikusa smiles for real. His shadow deepens in the low-hanging afternoon sun and when Tsuna narrows his eyes and refocuses them just so, he sees another boy entwined in Chikusa’s shadow, standing so close it’s impossible to tell them apart completely.

"If you want to see me again, call and I will come," Chikusa says, promises and Tsuna believes him.

"And how would I do that?" Tsuna tacks on nonetheless because Chikusa never keeps the same cellphone for more than a few weeks at a time and he’s not letting his brother slip away without a clear way to get in touch. [Not when he knows it would be easy, so very easy for Chikusa to disappear and never be seen or heard from again. It’s a small world these days but Chikusa excels at keeping to the shadows, at remaining forgotten and unseen.]

Chikusa leans forward to gently entwine Tsuna’s hand with his own, a warm, solid touch amidst an encounter that feels almost dream-likely surreal. A stray ray of sunlight catching in his classes and for a moment Chikusa’s eyes are red as blood and twice as warm.

"You will know," he swears, squeezes Tsuna’s hand and something like a shiver — not of cold but of warmth — zaps along Tsuna’s skin, sinks into his hand where Chikusa’s fingers are wrapped around his own.

When he lets go, Tsuna almost expects a mark, a print, something tangible left behind, but his skin is unmarred and his hand looks like it always does.

"Chikusa?" he calls out without looking up, knows his brother is already taking a step back again, mentally and physically, and he’s not ready for that yet. "Before you go, there’s— Well, actually there’s a couple of books I think you should read. Before we meet again. I’ll text you the titles, alright?"

It’s easier to fumble the request out, to put it out there in the cooling early evening air between them when Tsuna doesn’t have to look at him.

"Alright, I’ll make sure to check my messages. Get home safely, Tsu-kun, and take care of yourself."

"I’ll try," Tsuna says with a sardonic grin, but when he raises his head — endlessly relieved that Chikusa hasn’t rebuffed his plea, hasn’t even commented on it or made a huge deal about it — Chikusa is already gone. All that’s left is a small, abandoned side-street and the two huge bags of groceries by his feet that Tsuna doesn’t even remember putting down.

It’s not how Tsuna’s imagined his next encounter with Chikusa would go and half of him wishes that it didn’t feel like there’s this unsurmountable distance between them, that he could’ve said goodbye properly, but. The other half of him is relieved.

[Relieved that Chikusa is leaving. Relieved that he listened even if Tsuna won’t know for a long time whether he’ll actually read those books or not. Relieved that he didn’t just up and leave without any warning. Relieved that it could have gone so much worse than this.]

"Stay safe, Kusa-kun," Tsuna says softly into the empty street and means it.

* * *

98.

Ultimately, it’s a throw-away comment by Lussuria that prompts Tsuna to embark on this particular journey. Which is a suspicious development in and of itself because the more Tsuna gets to know his supervillain — friends? co-kidnappers? drinking buddies with a flair for violence and monologuing? — contacts, let’s go with that, the more he realizes that most of them are manipulative assholes.

Not always though which is the problem: It’s hard to tell if they’re trying to manipulate you because that’s just what they do and what comes natural to them — seriously Mammon, you could’ve just _asked_ , Tsuna wouldn’t have minded handing them the damn milk — or whether they just make a stupid comment they don’t mean anything by.

Tsuna doesn’t even know how they came onto the topic. In general, Lussuria doesn’t say much about mentals and what he says is never positive. They weren’t even talking about mentals specifically, just about traumas as a whole and the lacking psychological support for supers on the wrong side of the law.

Mammon had involved themself in a way they usually didn’t and Lussuria and grinned too sharply at them over the edge of his rose-tinted glasses, smacked his deep purple lips and said, "Oh honey, that’s what the online self help groups are for," in a voice that suggested mocking and said _fucking fight me, I dare you_ at the same time.

Not a day goes by where Tsuna isn’t impressed by the variety of passive aggressiveness levels Lussuria is capable of and wields so very skillfully.

In the moment Tsuna doesn’t think much of it. It’s two days later, on his supervillain-free day, standing in front of his distressingly empty fridge and contemplating whether he can find a way to tempt Skull into visiting again soon, that the thought occurs to Tsuna. It’s nothing groundbreaking, not even anything he hasn’t been aware for years. Just a simple: _There’s a lot of people that suffer mental attacks_.

And it’s nothing more than that, just a nudge really, but it gets Tsuna thinking. There’s a lot of civilians and supers who suffer mental attacks through the course of their lives, whether in the field or during a supervillain attack or in their everyday lives. And sure, there’s therapists, psychiatrists and doctors specialized in mental manipulation who support these people, anonymous phone lines you can call when you think you can’t trust your own mind, emergency services, you name it.

But. Humans who share a defining an experience, positive as well as negative, have a habit of feeling connected. Of bonding and sharing and building networks.

And it’s such a small, inconsequential thing because googling 'support group mental attack survivor' is _easy_.

Finding thousands of results is a bit surprising. Learning that many major cities have actual physical support groups with meetings and everything is a bit of a shock.

Tsuna closes the fridge with numb hands and ends up spending two hours scrolling through various forums, blog posts and chat rooms. Some of the posts resonate within him. Most don’t. Some disturb him or make him leave the site completely. Some sound so eerily similar Tsuna has to put the phone down for a moment because his hands are shaking too hard to keep on reading.

It’s. Weird. To think that there might be others out there who’ve gone to similar or worse experiences. Tsuna gets sucked into a three page description of a forty-seven year old woman who discovered that her husband had blocked three years of memories from her mind and her struggle in deciding whether she wants the block removed or not.

[Her last post is over two years old. She still hadn’t made up her mind in that one. Tsuna wonders what happened to her. Wonders what she chose. ~~Wonders if it gave her what she was looking for.~~ ]

He finds recommended readings but Tsuna has never been big on reading and can’t imagine starting now, especially for something like this. There’s one blog that recommends a couple of podcasts discussing mental trauma and its consequences for the victims that sound interesting though.

Tsuna finds himself staring at one of said podcasts for three minutes. The description and the episode titles sound interesting — sound like things Tsuna thinks he should probably hear. And there’s a lot of good reviews on it.

He presses 'Subscribed' and doesn’t know why he feels so nervous, almost a bit sick. And. Maybe he should listen to an episode. Probably.

Tsuna closes the app and takes a deep breath instead. [What’s that thing Haru always says when she goes on about Hibari-senpai inner heart of gold? _Baby steps_. _Baby steps indeed_.]

* * *

99.

Tsuna is five years old when Iemitsu first considers stepping up his son’s training. Little Tsuna has taken well to the lessons and though there’s no visible proof for his progress, Iemitsu has no doubt that the exposure to Killing Intent has the desired effect. [A Sawada’s intuition is a dangerous thing indeed.]

But it’s not until his little Tsuna greets him at the door with a wide smile — missing front tooth included — that Iemitsu realizes the full extent of Tsuna’s progress. He’s known his boy would be talented of course, Tsuna is a Sawada, there was never a question about that, his first test results only confirmed what Iemitsu had always known. But on this particular Friday evening, Tsuna greets him with an enthusiastic hug and talking a mile a minute about _the little girl living across doors, who is just like people in the boring room, Tousan_ , and what another man might have brushed off as a child’s excitements makes something in the back of Iemitsu’s mind sit up and take notice.

When Iemitsu started this experiment, he had every intention of helping Tsuna to overcome the limits he’d been born with, to compensate for a lacking sixth sense that wasn’t his boy’s fault but would hold him back his entire life all the same. But see: It’s very unusual for small children to exude Killing Intent in large enough quantities to be noticeable to other supers. Even less so when they’re simply playing happily in the backyard.

And so as Iemitsu lifts his beaming son into his arms, he also thinks something like this: What if Tsuna could? What if, by falling back on his intuition to identify Killing Intent, Tsuna can detect quantities that would be beyond even Vongola’s most sensitive sensor?

Something huge and immeasurable unfolds in Iemitsu’s heart, not just relief but pride for his son who is proving to be more extraordinary than even he had thought possible. And because Iemitsu is a Vongola man through and through he cannot help but wonder what the organization could accomplish with such an ability. What they could do if they were even better at detecting supers, detecting villains, if they didn’t need to wait until someone’s Killing Intent was already geared up and ready to go. It could do more than support operatives in the field, it could stop fights before they could ever escalate, could save an untold number of lives in the field, could—

Iemitsu stares at his son, his sweet, adorable, _brilliant_ litte Tuna fish who can do so much, accomplish so much, be the force Vongola will need in the future and he cannot wait to tell Timoteo, cannot wait to show off his little genius who will transform the way they think about Killing Intent forever.

He’s laughing, beaming and as he throws little Tsuna up into the air, Iemitsu feels lighter than he has in years. There may yet be a future for Vongola that Xanxus’ rebellion has almost ruined, there is still hope. [And because Iemitsu is a Sawada, he wonders what else could Tsuna’s intuition learn to do? What else could you teach a child, what else could his son pick up easily that they have until this day considered impossible? Could he identify children by their level of KI before they ever even took a test? Could he—]

High up in the air, with the sun setting behind him, dipping the world into shades of orange, red and purple, Iemitsu can be forgiven for missing the way his son’s eyes flare bright orange.

And it’s in this very moment, while Sawada Iemitsu looks at his five year old son, his cute, shy, perfect little Tsuna, that the voice inside his head — that irritating, spot-on instinct his family is renown and feared for, the intuition that has never once led him wrong — tells him _this boy will burn everything you hold dear to the ground_.

He drops the child — his sweet, gentle Tuna fish, his _son_ — in shock. Tsuna screams in fear, but luckily doesn’t hurt himself from the fall.

[The boy never lets Iemitsu throw him up into the air again.]

Later, Iemitsu will shake the eery feeling off. Will push it aside and convince himself of the folly of his five year old son posing a threat in any way shape or form. It helps that his intuition never flares up again, not with that same intensity. But an uneasy feeling remains, and though Nana is sad to see her husband leave so soon, eagerly waits for his return, it will be eight years before Iemitsu returns to visit his family for a meaningful length of time.

[He’ll burn Tsuna’s test results. Never take his son to work with him again, never mentions his talents, his brilliance to Timoteo, not even when Frederico dies and the Ninth is desperate for an heir. That heir cannot be Tsuna, will never be Tsuna and although — _because_ — Iemitsu loves his family with all his heart, he’ll thank gods he doesn’t believe in when Tsuna never shows a particular aptitude, never develops a gift because the price of some powers is not worth the cost.

Because Iemitsu never wants to stand against his son — and he knows where he would stand, if it came to it.]

* * *

**the end.**

* * *

+1.

It’s a perfectly ordinary Monday morning at Vongola Inc. and if Tsuna didn’t feel inexplicably restless, he could almost enjoy the mundanity of it all. For once, Tsuna’s day has started without a hitch: He woke up feeling well-rested and energized, didn’t spill any orange juice onto his uniform, arrived at Headquarters on time, started his computer without issues and didn’t discover an unpleasant surprise in his emails.

Supervillain activities are low because temperatures have risen like crazy in the last two weeks and no one is insane enough to _want_ to start a fight in the current heat. Which Tsuna decidedly isn’t complaining about, since the AC works just fine in their office.

Really, it’s looking to be a wonderfully uneventful, pleasant week.

Tsuna takes a sip of his coffee and carefully sets the cup back down far enough away from his computer to avoid any potential spilling disasters.

Which turns out to be a great call two minutes later, when his peace is shattered by the deafening noise of the internal Vongola Inc. emergency alarm system going off. Because of course it does. Tsuna can’t even bring himself to be surprised.

"Everyone confer into meeting room 331, immediately! We’ve got a code omega-nada-epic, I repeat, code omega-nada-epic! Everything that can be dropped, drop it now and get your asses moving!" Mochida-san hollers over the ear-splitting noise that makes Tsuna deeply envious of the noise-cancelling headphones Hana is sporting.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later his squad has assembled in record time in the emergency meeting room. Tsuna is genuinely curious about what’s going on. Everything has been so quiet lately, what with Chikusa, Ken and Mukuro disappearing to who-knows-where [Kaasan called yesterday to squeal about the postcard Chikusa has apparently sent her from Australia and how thoughtful and sweet he is] and Xanxus’ continuous improvements that have kept the Varia busy and out of trouble. The Arcobaleno Reborn has been out of the country on a longer job that won’t end for another two weeks at best and Skull stopped by last Thursday, so probably won’t show his face again for a while. Even Marshmallow Muffin has put most of his schemes on hold to enjoy the nice weather with Tsuna and rave about the many, many plans he has for their future as benevolent, earth-ruling BFFs that never fail to make Tsuna smile.

So really, despite his numerous supervillain connections, Tsuna’s got nothing. For once everyone he knows is staying out of trouble — and more importantly not dragging him into it. So why is there this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that he’s forgotten something?

"What the hell is going on?" Hana spits out from where she’s protectively cradling her headphones, so clearly Tsuna isn’t the only one asking himself that very question.

No supervillain attack would set off the internal alarms — not unless the HQ itself was under attack and Tsuna might be too optimistic here, but he likes to think they would have noticed a full-scale attack by now.

"If you’d shut up, I could tell you!" Mochida-san snaps and nope, he doesn’t look happy at all. He looks unsettled which is such a rarity that Tsuna reflexively straightens further in his seat. As everyone quietens — and some higher being of mercy in the internal security team finally shuts off the painful alarm — their team leader takes a deep breath and turns on the projector.

The picture it shows is not what Tsuna expected at all. Which is probably why it packs one hell of a punch.

"We’ve got a level 1 internal security breach," Mochida-san says with the face of someone announcing a death sentence. Which is not as inaccurate a comparison as Tsuna would like it to be. "All attack squads not already deployed are on stand-by until further notice and all Vongola Inc. employees above security clearance level 5 are under investigation."

"What the _fuck_?!" Unsurprisingly that outburst comes from Hana. "I’ve got fucking rights, Mochida, so you better tell me right the fuck now why I’m supposed to be under house arrest for a full-on house-cleaning before I march right up to the Ninth’s office and explain to him how basic human rights and privacy protection work!"

Knowing Hana, it’s not an empty threat. Tsuna feels his respect for Mochida rise when he doesn’t flinch in the face of Hana’s full-on glare of death.

"A high-level prisoner has escaped Vongola Inc. custody, likely with inside help." There’s no missing the grimness in Mochida-san’s voice. It’s only appropriate. They all know what an official search for a traitor means — as shown by the uncomfortable shuffling of everyone, safe for Hana, who is too terrifying to feel fear and still in the midst of a righteous fit.

"Who got away then?" Haru, who’s nervously picking at her purple nail polish, asks. "I wasn’t aware we had any high-level prisoners here at the moment?"

"Neither was I which is part of the problem." Mochida sighs, but gestures towards the picture on the wall with something in between fear and resignation. "Meet Xanxus di Varia, the Ninth’s fourth son."

Tsuna slams his head against the table. It’s the only thing he can think of that will keep him from bursting out laughing until he cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late. This chapter is really late. I'm aware of that, unfortunately my offline life seriously got in the way. Like holy damn, it really did its utmost best to ensure this chapter would never be published and yet here we are. Take that!  
> It's rare for me to finish a project, especially one as huge as this turned out to be even though it was supposed to be short, in such a short amount of time and I have to admit I'm proud of what I managed here. **I also want to thank all of you for reading, for leaving kudos, for subscribing and bookmarking and most of all for encouraging me with your amazing comments!**  
>  You are all so amazing and I want you to know that I never would've made it this far, never mind this quickly without your support. I've read every last comment on this fic (some of them multiple times) and they never fail to bring a smile to my face. Thank you for sticking it out with me and waiting through this last month. I promise I'll go back to the last chapter soon to answer all your comments and if you have the time to spare I'd love to hear what you think about this fic now that we've made it to the end.  
> ALSO: If you have further questions, want to see more drabble style scenes that were either cut out or that I simply never wrote but you want to know what happened to various characters/what's going on behind the scenes or maybe even chat about some of the alternate plot ideas I had for this fic but scrapped along the way, I'm always happy to chat about any fic I write and especially about this one. **I'm happy to do so in the comment section but if you want to give me prompts for this AU** , you may have better luck on my tumblr account [petroltogo](https://petroltogo.tumblr.com/) because I usually don't write actual ficlets and drabbles in the comments.  
> You may also want to subscribe to the series this work belongs to if you enjoy the world that's been built here. Don't get me wrong, this fic absolutely stands on its own. But I may be convinced to post a few longer additional scenes and insights, maybe even a short story about the Varia or the Kokuyo Gang's side of things later on. No promises though.  
> In any case, thank you again for reading. Take care of yourself, be save and I wish you all the best and hope we run across each other again soon!


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